For the Sake of Their Son

by Catherine Mann

  She snorted. “Hardly. You don’t fool me with the pained look. It’s eleven months too late to be genuine.”

  “You would be wrong about that.”

  “No games.” She shot to her feet. “We both need time to regroup and think. We need to continue this conversation later.”

  “Fair enough then.” He sat on the sofa, stretching both arms out along the back.

  She stomped her foot. “What are you doing?”

  He picked up the remote from the coffee table and leaned back again into the deepest, saggiest part. “Making myself comfortable.”

  “For what?”

  He thumbed on the television. “If I’m going to stick around until you’re ready to talk, I might as well scout the good stations. Any beer in the fridge? Although wait, it’s too early for that. How about coffee?”

  “No.” She snatched the remote control from his hand. “And stop it. I don’t know what game you’re playing but you can quit and go. In case that wasn’t clear enough, leave and come back later. You can take my car.”

  He took the remote right back and channel surfed without looking away from the flat screen. “Thanks for the generous offer of transportation, but you said we can’t take Eli on the road and I only just met my son. I’m not leaving him now. How about the coffee?”

  “Like hell.”

  “I don’t need cream. Black will do just fine.”

  “Argh!” She slumped against the archway between the living room and kitchen. “Quit being ridiculous about the coffee. You know you’re not staying here.”

  He set aside the remote, smiling as some morning talk show droned in the background. “So you’ll come with me after all. Good.”

  “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

  “No newsflash there, sweetheart. A few too many concussions.” He stood. “Forget the suitcase.”

  “Run that by me again?”

  “Don’t bother with packing. I’ll buy everything you need, everything new. Let’s just grab a couple of diapers for the rug rat and go.”

  Her acceptance was becoming more and more important by the second. He needed her with him. He had to figure out a way to tie their lives together again so his son would know a father, a mother and a normal life.

  “Stop! Stop trying to control my life.” She stared at him sadly. “Elliot, I appreciate all you did for me in the past, but I don’t need rescuing anymore.”

  “Last time I checked, I wasn’t offering a rescue. Just a partnership.”

  If humor and pigheadedness didn’t work, time to go back to other tactics. No great hardship really, since the attraction crackled between them every bit as tangibly now as it had the night they’d impulsively landed in bed together after a successful win. He sauntered closer. “As I recall, last time we were together, we shared control quite...nicely. And now that I think of it, we really don’t need those clothes after all.”

  * * *

  The rough upholstery of the sofa rasped against the backs of Lucy Ann’s legs, her skin oversensitive, tingling to life after just a few words from Elliot. Damn it, she refused to be seduced by him again. The way her body betrayed her infuriated her down to her toes, which curled in her sandals.

  Sure, he was beach-boy handsome, mesmerizingly sexy and blindingly charming. Women around the world could attest to his allure. However, in spite of her one unforgettable moment of weakness, she refused to be one of those fawning females throwing themselves at his feet.

  No matter how deeply her body betrayed her every time he walked in the room.

  She shot from the sofa, pacing restlessly since she couldn’t bring herself to leave her son alone, even though he slept. Damn Elliot and the draw of attraction that had plagued her since the day they’d gone skinny-dipping at fourteen and she realized they weren’t kids anymore.

  Shutting off those thoughts, she pivoted on the coarse shag carpet to face him. “This is not the time or the place for sexual innuendo.”

  “Honey―” his arms stretched along the back of the sofa “―it’s never a bad time for sensuality. For nuances. For seduction.”

  The humor in his eyes took the edge of arrogance off his words. “If you’re aiming to persuade me to leave with you, you’re going about it completely the wrong way.”

  “There’s no denying we slept together.”

  “Clearly.” She nodded toward the Pack ’n Play where their son slept contentedly, unaware that his little world had just been turned upside down.

  “There’s no denying that it was good between us. Very good.”

  Elliot’s husky words snapped her attention back to his face. There wasn’t a hint of humor in sight. Awareness tingled to the roots of her hair.

  Swallowing hard, she sank into an old cane rocker. “It was impulsive. We were both tipsy and sentimental and reckless.” The rush of that evening sang through her memory, the celebration of his win, reminiscing about his first dirt track race, a little wine, too much whimsy, then far too few clothes.... “I refuse to regret that night or call our...encounter...a mistake since I have Eli. But I do not intend to repeat the experience.”

  “Now that’s just a damn shame. What a waste of good sexual chemistry.”

  “Will you please stop?” Her hands fisted on the arms of the wooden rocker. “We got along just fine as friends for thirty years.”

  “Are you saying we can be friends again?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “No more hiding out and keeping big fat secrets from each other?”

  His words carried too much truth for comfort. “You’re twisting my words around.”

  “God’s honest truth, Lucy Ann.” He sighed. “I’m trying to call a truce so we can figure out how to plan our son’s future.”

  “By telling me to ditch my clothes? You obviously missed class the day they taught the definition of truce.”

  “Okay, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “I’m not thinking as clearly as I would like. Learning about Eli has been a shock to say the least.”

  “I can understand that.” Her hands unfurled to grip the rocker. “And I am so very sorry for any pain this has caused you.”

  “Given that I’ve lost the first two months of my son’s life, the least you can do is give me four weeks together. Since you’re working from home here, you’ll be able to work on the road, as well. But if going on the race circuit is a deal breaker, I’ll bow out this season.”

  She jolted in surprise that he would risk all he’d worked so hard to achieve, a career he so deeply loved. “What about your sponsors? Your reputation?”

  “This is your call.”

  “That’s not fair to make an ultimatum like that, to put it on me.”

  “I’m asking, and I’m offering you choices.”

  Choices? Hardly. She knew how important his racing career was to him. And she couldn’t help but admit to feeling a bit of pride in having helped him along the way. There was no way she could let him back out now.

  She tossed up her hands. “Fine. Eli and I will travel with you on the race circuit for the next four weeks so you can figure out whatever it is you want to know and make your plans. You win. You always do.”

  * * *

  Winning didn’t feel much like a victory tonight.

  Elliot poured himself a drink from the wet bar at his hotel. He and Lucy Ann had struck a bargain that he would stay at a nearby historic home that had been converted into a hotel while she made arrangements to leave in the morning. He’d called for a car service to pick him up, making use of his credit card numbers, memorized, a fact he hadn’t bothered mentioning to Lucy Ann earlier. Although she should have known. Had she selectively forgotten or had she been that rattled?

  The half hour waiting for the car had been spent silent
ly staring at his son while Eli slept and Lucy Ann hid in the other room under the guise of packing.

  Elliot’s head was still reeling. He had been knocked unconscious and kidnapped, and found out he had an unknown son all in one day. He tipped back the glass of bourbon, emptying it and pouring another to savor, more slowly, while he sat out on the garden balcony where he would get better cell phone reception.

  He dropped into a wrought-iron chair and let the Carolina moon pour over him. His home state brought such a mix of happy and sad memories. He was always better served just staying the hell away. He tugged his cell from his waistband, tucked his Bluetooth in his ear and thumbed autodial three for Malcolm Douglas.

  The ringing stopped two buzzes in. “Brother, how’s it going?”

  “How do you think it’s going, Douglas? My head hurts and I’m pissed off.” Anger was stoked back to life just thinking about his friends’ arrogant stunt, the way they’d played with his life. “You could have just told me about the baby.”

  Malcolm chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t have been half as fun that way.”

  “Fun? You think this is some kind of game? You’re a sick bastard.” The thought of them plotting this out while he partied blissfully unaware had him working hard to keep his breath steady. He and his friends had played some harsh jokes on one another in the past, but nothing like this. “How long have you known?”

  “For about a week,” the chart-topping musician answered unrepentantly.

  “A week.” Seven days he could have had with his son. Seven days his best friends kept the largest of secrets from him. Anger flamed through him. Was there nobody left in this world he could trust? He clenched his hand around the glass tumbler until it threatened to shatter. “And you said nothing at all.”

  “I know it seems twisted, but we talked it through,” he said, all humor gone, his smooth tones completely serious for once. “We thought this was the best way. You’re too good at playing it cool with advance notice. You would have just made her mad.”

  “Like I didn’t already do that?” He set aside the half-drunk glass of bourbon, the top-shelf brand wasted on him in his current mood.

  “You confronted her with honesty,” Malcolm answered reasonably. “If we’d given you time to think, you’d have gotten your pride up. You would have been angry and bullish. You can be rather pigheaded, you know.”

  “If I’m such a jackass, then why are we still friends?”

  “Because I’m a jackass, too.” Malcolm paused before continuing somberly. “You would have done the same for me. I know what it’s like not to see your child, to have missed out on time you can never get back...”

  Malcolm’s voice choked off with emotion. He and his wife had been high school sweethearts who’d had to give up a baby girl for adoption since they were too young to provide a life for their daughter. Now they had twins—a boy and a girl—they loved dearly, but they still grieved for that first child, even knowing they’d made the right decision for her.

  Although Malcolm and Celia had both known about their child from the start.

  Elliot forked his hands through his buzzed hair, kept closely shorn since he’d let his thoughts of Lucy Ann distract him and he’d caught his car on fire just before Christmas—nearly caught himself on fire, as well.

  He’d scorched his hair; the call had been that damn close.

  “I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact she’s kept his existence from me for so long.”

  Malcolm snorted. “I can’t believe the two of you slept together.”

  A growl rumbled low in his throat. “You’re close to overstepping the bounds of our friendship with talk like that.”

  “Ahhh.” He chuckled. “So you do care about her more than you’ve let on.”

  “We were...friends. Lifelong friends. That’s no secret.” He and Lucy Ann shared so much history it was impossible to unravel events from the past without thinking about each other. “The fact that there was briefly more...I can’t deny that, either.”

  “You must not have been up to snuff for her to run so fast.”

  Anger hissed between Elliot’s teeth, and he resisted the urge to pitch his Bluetooth over the balcony. “Now you have crossed the line. If we were sitting in the same place right now, my fist would be in your face.”

  “Fair enough.” Douglas laughed softly again. “Like I said. You do care more than a little, more than any ‘buddy.’ And you can’t refute it. Admit it, Elliot. I’ve just played you, my friend.”

  No use denying he’d been outmaneuvered by someone who knew him too well.

  And as for what Malcolm had said? That he cared for Lucy Ann? Cared? Yes. He had. And like every other time in his life he’d cared, things had gone south.

  If he wanted to sort through this mess and create any kind of future with Eli and Lucy Ann, he had to think more and care less.

  Three

  Lucy Ann shaded her eyes against the rising sun. For the third time in twenty-four hours a limousine pulled up her dusty road, oak trees creating a canopy for the long driveway. The first time had occurred yesterday when Elliot had arrived, then when he’d left, and now, he was returning.

  Her simple semihermit life working from home with her son was drawing to a close in another few minutes.

  Aunt Carla cradled Eli in her arms. Carla never seemed to age, her hair a perpetual shade halfway between gray and brown. She refused to waste money to have it colored. Her arms were ropy and strong from years of carting around trays of pizzas and sodas. Her skin was prematurely wrinkled from too much hard work, time in the Carolina sun—and a perpetual smile.

  She was a tough, good woman who’d been there for Lucy Ann all her life. Too bad Carla couldn’t have been her mother. Heaven knows she’d prayed for that often enough.

  Carla smiled down at little Eli, his fist curled around her finger. “I’m sure I’m going to miss you both. It’s been a treat having a baby around again.”

  She’d never had a child of her own, but was renowned for opening her home to family members in need. She wasn’t a problem-solver so much as a temporary oasis. Very temporary, as the limo drew closer down the half-mile driveway.

  “You’re sweet to make it sound like we haven’t taken over your house.” Lucy Ann tugged her roller bag through the door, kerthunking it over a bump, casting one last glance back at the tiny haven of Hummels and the saggy sofa.

  “Sugar, you know I only wish I could’ve done more for you this time and when you were young.” Carla swayed from side to side, wearing her standard high-waisted jeans and a seasonal shirt—a pink Easter bunny on today’s tee.

  “You’ve always been there for me.” Lucy Ann sat on top of her luggage, her eyes on the nearing limo. “I don’t take that for granted.”

  “I haven’t always been there for you and we both know it,” Carla answered, her eyes shadowed with memories they both didn’t like to revisit.

  “You did the best you could. I know that.” Since Lucy Ann’s mother had legal guardianship and child services wouldn’t believe any of the claims of neglect, much less allegations of abuse by stepfathers, there wasn’t anything Lucy Ann could do other than escape to Carla—or to Elliot.

  Her mother and her last stepfather had died in a boating accident, so there was nothing to be gained from dwelling on the past. Her mom had no more power over her than Lucy Ann allowed her. “Truly, Carla, the past is best left there.”

  “Glad to know you feel that way. I hope you learned that from me.” Carla tugged on Lucy Ann’s low ponytail. “If you can forgive me, why can’t you forgive Elliot?”

  Good question. She slouched back with a sigh. “If I could answer that, then I guess my heart wouldn’t be breaking in two right now.”

  Her aunt hauled her in for a one-armed hug while she cradled the baby in the other. �
��I would fix this for you if I could.”

  “Come with us,” Lucy Ann blurted. “I’ve asked you before and I know all your reasons for saying no. You love your home and your life and weekly bingo. But will you change your mind this time?” She angled back, hoping. “Will you come with us? We’re family.”

  “Ah, sweet niece.” Carla shook her head. “This is your life, your second chance, your adventure. Be careful. Be smart. And remember you’re a damn amazing woman. He would be a lucky man to win you back.”

  Just the thought... No. “That’s not why I’m going with him.” She took Eli from her aunt. “My trip is only about planning a future for my son, for figuring out a way to blend Elliot’s life with my new life.”

  “You used to be a major part of his world.”

  “I was his glorified secretary.” A way for him to give her money while salving her conscience. At least she’d lived frugally and used the time to earn a degree so she could be self-sufficient. The stretch limo slowed along the last patch of gravel in front of the house.

  “You were his best friend and confidant... And apparently something more at least once.”

  “I’m not sure what point you are trying to make, but if you’re going to make it, do so fast.” She nodded to the opening limo door. “We’re out of time.”

  “You two got along fabulously for decades and there’s an obvious attraction. Why can’t you have more?” Her aunt tipped her head, eyeing Elliot stepping from the vehicle. The car door slammed.

  Sunshine sent dappled rays along his sandy-brown hair, over his honed body in casual jeans and a white polo that fit his muscled arms. She’d leaned on those broad shoulders for years without hesitation, but now all she could think about was the delicious feel of those arms around her. The flex of those muscles as he stretched over her.

  Lucy Ann tore her eyes away and back to her aunt. “Have more?” That hadn’t ended well for either of them. “Are you serious?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “He hasn’t come looking for me for nearly a year. He let me go.” Something that had hurt every day of the eleven months that passed. She waved toward him talking to his chauffeur. “He’s only here now because his friends threw him on my doorstep.”