by Abby Gaines
“It’s Daisy we’re worried about,” Kyle agreed.
“Hmm.” The therapist’s eyebrows rose again. “How would you describe Daisy’s nature before her mother’s death?”
Kyle clasped his hands loosely between his knees and leaned forward. “I didn’t see as much of her as I should have. So she’s always been shy with me.”
“That’s not entirely Kyle’s fault,” Jane inserted. “Daisy is slow to warm up, and having her for only a day or two a week would have made it hard to build rapport.”
“Daisy’s grandmother, Barb, finds her quite lively,” Kyle said.
“What was her mother—” the man glanced at his notes “—Lissa, like?”
“Charming, fun, willful,” Kyle said. “She was devoted to Daisy. Lissa was an extrovert, and most people loved her.”
Kyle had loved her, enough to marry her, enough to go through the emotional and physical strain of IVF. Enough to swallow his pride and ask Jane for help when Lissa had shut him out during the pregnancy. Jane felt a pang of envy, swiftly followed by shame that she hadn’t done more. Maybe if she’d pressed Lissa harder to tell Kyle the truth...maybe they could have had an honest conversation, and their marriage would have survived.
“Daisy told me she wasn’t sure if her mom loved her,” Jane blurted. She felt mean even saying it, but it was important.
“Any idea why?” Dr. Franks asked.
“Lissa’s behavior was sometimes over-the-top,” Kyle said slowly. “A bit possessive. I thought it was because of the divorce—we shared custody—but maybe she was staking a stronger claim. I also at times wondered if I wasn’t really Daisy’s father,” he explained, recounting that old doubt to the psychologist. “Maybe I inadvertently made Lissa feel like the only parent, so she had to overcompensate.”
“Or maybe she caused herself to overcompensate,” Jane added. “Lissa lied about Daisy, but she was generally honest and wouldn’t have lived with her deception easily. She would have likely continued to feel guilty.”
Kyle gave her a sideways look, with a warmth in it that made her feel oddly shy.
Dr. Franks didn’t look impressed with their amateur attempts at doing his job.
“How do you feel about Daisy, Jane?”
She froze; for some reason she hadn’t expected any questions about herself. “I, uh, am fond of her. Anyone would be. She’s very sweet.”
“When you say anyone would be fond of her, you imply your feelings toward her are no different from anyone else’s,” he said.
Her throat dried. “I, uh...”
“You’re her biological mother,” Dr. Franks said. “Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“It means I gave an egg,” Jane said.
“You have no maternal feelings toward her?”
“No!” Her heart thudded. “Daisy is Lissa’s daughter.” She couldn’t forget that. Mustn’t forget that.
“I believe you do feel a maternal connection toward her,” the psychologist said. “I believe you feel possessive toward her, responsible toward her. Do you think that might confuse Daisy?”
“That’s not true.”
“Jane has never acted in a way that could hurt Daisy,” Kyle said. “She’s displayed total integrity throughout this process.”
Not entirely true—he was overlooking the blackmail. Jane sent him a grateful smile.
“I’d like you both to try something,” Dr. Franks said. “Kyle, could you extend your left hand, palm up, please.”
Kyle did as he asked.
“Now, Jane, could you place your right hand on top of Kyle’s, palm down.”
Jane hesitated. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“No big deal,” the man said pleasantly. “Could you do it, please.”
He was right, it was no big deal. Jane’s reluctance risked making it bigger than it was. She put her hand on Kyle’s.
It was like touching a lodestone, baked by the sun. The warmth of his palm was a magnet to hers as they pressed flesh to flesh. His strong, lean fingers supported hers.
Jane’s heart stuttered in the most pathetically teenage fashion. Did his do the same?
“Can we stop now?” he asked.
Dr. Franks’s eyebrows rose at his sharp tone. “In a moment. First, I’d like you both to spread your fingers wide, then curl them together.”
Neither of them moved.
“You mean,” Jane said, “hold hands?”
“Exactly.”
“What’s the point of—oh.”
Kyle had complied, and now their fingers were interlocked.
“Here’s how I see it,” the psychologist said. “Daisy’s mother died a month ago—of course she’s off-kilter. She has a crappy relationship with her dad, like thousands of other children of divorce. It sucks, but that’s normal and it can get better. Daisy needs time and love, and a bit of thought put into making her feel secure, and that’s exactly what you’re giving her.” The doctor spread his hands. “So what if she has the occasional meltdown while driving bumper cars? Some kids do that every time they go to the supermarket.”
“You’re saying there’s nothing to worry about?” Jane asked.
“I’m saying, keep doing what you’re doing and let time get on with the healing. And ten out of ten for effort to both of you.”
Jane felt the warmth of Kyle’s grin, the squeeze of his fingers around hers.
“That’s such a relief,” she said.
“Thanks, Doctor,” Kyle said.
Dr. Franks cracked his knuckles. “Actually, you two misunderstood where the issue lay.” He shrugged. “Don’t feel bad about it—figuring out the problem is my job.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“The only threats to Daisy’s stability are how you’re going to manage telling her the truth about her conception—if you do—and that’s not an immediate concern. The second stability factor is your relationships, Kyle, and right now that means what’s going on between you and Jane.”
Kyle let go of Jane’s hand. “There’s nothing going on.”
“You walk in here, sit as far apart as possible on my couch, freak out when I suggest you touch hands. Yet during my questions, you each tried to exonerate the other of any blame for Daisy’s state of mind.”
“That’s garbage,” Kyle said.
“You’re confused, and that’s understandable,” Dr. Franks told him. “This woman, Jane, whom you’ve never particularly liked, contributed her DNA to the daughter you love.”
“I’m not confused.” But Kyle’s brow furrowed; Jane sensed his thoughts moving in a direction she couldn’t discern.
“While you—” the psychologist turned to Jane “—feel safer without any relationships. But Lissa’s death has forced you into close confines not only with a child who’s arguably yours, but also with that child’s father.”
“She’s not my child,” Jane said tensely.
“How would you describe your relationship with Kyle?” Dr. Franks asked.
“It’s...outside normal definition,” she admitted. “But nothing’s going on.”
“We’re cocarers of Daisy.” Kyle came back into the conversation. “We’re friends.”
“I’d say you’re sex waiting to happen,” the psychologist said bluntly.
“What the hell does that mean?” Kyle barked.
Dr. Franks looked amused. “You want me to draw a picture?”
“We’re not going to have sex,” Ja
ne said. Her insides quivered with tension, like a bow drawn tight. “I like Kyle as a friend, that’s all.”
“You like like him,” the psychologist said.
“We’re not in high school, Dr. Franks,” Kyle snapped.
“The possibility of anything more than friendship has never crossed my mind, not for a nanosecond,” Jane said. Her cheeks felt hot just saying it. “Heck, even friendship is a stretch with our history.” She looked at Kyle expectantly.
“Never crossed my mind, either,” he said.
Was it her imagination, or had his denial come a shade too late and a shade too emphatically?
Jane stilled. Kyle had thought about sleeping with her?
Before she could process that possibility, Kyle stood. “We’re done here.”
Dr. Franks’s eyebrows settled in a straightish line. “You’re right, time’s up.” He rose from his chair. “I think we’re agreed, Daisy needs time, love and stability. The stability is down to the two of you, who need to sort out your feelings for each other.” He came around the desk to open the door for them. “I don’t give a damn if you two go at it like rabbits or don’t touch each other with a ten-foot pole. But for Daisy’s sake, pick one and be honest about it.”
* * *
THEY SAID NOTHING as they got in the car. Nothing as Kyle turned onto Highway 9 out of Frisco, toward Pinyon Ridge. But as they passed the sign marking the city limit, Kyle said, “Total waste of two hundred bucks.”
“Total,” Jane agreed. “You’d have got better value if you’d ripped up the money and burned it for heat.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. He flipped his turn signal and passed a semitrailer. “Still, I hope he’s right that all Daisy needs is time and a continued effort by us.”
“We haven’t done too badly,” she said.
“We’re on the right track,” he agreed. “Thanks to your coaching.”
“You’re the one who put it into action,” she said. “You’ve put a lot of work into changing the way you deal with Daisy.”
She realized they were doing what the therapist had said—giving each other credit—and clammed up.
“Just because he was right about some things, doesn’t mean he was right about the rest of it.” It seemed Kyle had come to the same realization. “Even quacks must get lucky sometimes.”
“Absolutely.” Jane pulled her sunglasses, perched on her head, down over her eyes. “I did notice—I did wonder...”
“What?”
“When I said I hadn’t thought about sex...for us...you kind of hesitated before you agreed.”
Another hesitation. Uh-oh.
“I’m a guy,” he said. “Guys think about sex all the time.”
“Does that mean you’ve thought about it with me?”
“Why do you want to know?” he hedged.
Deep inside her, everything tightened.
“Because if Dr. Franks is right, and we’re causing confusion, maybe we need to fix that.”
“You could stop walking around in those pajamas,” he said.
“My rubber ducky pj’s?” she said.
“They make your legs look—” one hand left the steering wheel in an expressive gesture “—incredible.” He passed an RV hugging the center line. “Look, Jane, I’m a guy. You’re an attractive woman who swans around my house in her teeny tiny pajamas. Naturally, sex has crossed my mind.”
She pffed. “I don’t swan.”
They drove maybe another half mile before he said, “Are you telling me you’ve never thought of it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” She blew out a breath. “Maybe, since Dr. Franks thinks Daisy’s on the right track, I should pack up and leave. It might make things simpler.”
The car hit the shoulder at speed, gravel flying out from the wheels. Jane squawked.
Kyle pulled into a picnic area she hadn’t noticed—trees screened it from this end, meaning it would only be visible coming from the other direction. He braked, turned the engine off.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He twisted to face her. “Three weeks ago, I’d have grabbed your offer to leave with both hands. But we’ve come a long way since then—Daisy’s come a long way. Don’t you dare walk out on her now.”
“This is somewhat ironic,” she said. “You’re now forbidding me to leave, when a few weeks ago you offered to pay me to go.”
“So I’ve seen sense. Whatever.” He lifted her sunglasses from her nose so he could look into her eyes. “Are you staying?”
His dark eyes were intense, but no longer bitter. Jane swallowed. “I’ll stay if Daisy needs me.”
He set her glasses up on her head. “Good,” he said gruffly.
“But I can see Dr. Franks might be right about potential confusion for her. You need to stop thinking about sleeping with me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Two things. First, it’s not like I’m thinking about it all the time—it’s just something that pops up when you’re in those pj’s. Second, technically, it’s not sleeping that’s on my mind.”
Liquid heat pooled deep inside her. “Stop that,” she said.
“Third...”
“You said two things. Can we get back to driving now, please.”
“I’ve been honest with you, I’d like you to do the same. In the spirit of therapy.”
She snorted. “You don’t believe in therapy.”
“But you do. Are you saying you’ve never felt even a spark of physical attraction for me?”
“Kyle!”
“Well?” he demanded.
“Maybe a spark,” she conceded. His eyes lit in triumph. “But that’s mainly because of this weird situation we’re in,” she added quickly. “There’s a forced connection between us, through Daisy, so it’s natural to think about what other, uh, aspects might come into that. Neither of us would be attracted to the other if the circumstances were different. I mean, were you ever attracted to me before?”
She was out of her depth. The air in the truck had grown heavy.
“No,” Kyle said. “I wasn’t.”
“Exactly.”
“But the fact that it didn’t happen then doesn’t make it less real now,” he said.
Jane opened her door, and even the blast of heat that flooded in was less oppressive than the air in the cab. “I need to stretch my legs.”
She got out of the truck. Much better. She took a few steps away. Then turned around as a door slammed.
Kyle was out, too. “You can’t run away when the conversation gets difficult,” he said as he approached. “Okay, let’s move on from the alleged attraction between us. There’s one more thing I need to say.”
He stopped in front of her, too close for comfort, but she planted her feet in the scrabbly dirt. Because she didn’t run away. “Say it,” she told him.
One side of his mouth quirked. Then he sobered. “When Dr. Franks was talking...what did he say? Something like, that you, a woman I’ve never particularly liked, contributed your DNA to the daughter I love.”
“I wasn’t offended,” she assured him. “I know you never liked me, and the feeling was mutual.”
“Shut up,” he said, and she was so surprised, she obeyed. “I can’t believe I never thought about this before.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Jane, if it wasn’t for you, Daisy wouldn’t exist.”
She opened her mouth to say...what? Nothing came to her.
“I’ve been so mad at Li
ssa for lying to me,” he continued, “so mad at you, I’ve ignored the—the magnitude of what you did.”
“It was...”
“Don’t you dare say it was nothing.” He grasped her arms, sending a tingle right through her. “My daughter—my amazing, wonderful, quiet, frustrating, adorable bumper-car road hog...”
Jane gave a watery chortle. It was either that or dissolve into sappy tears.
“She’s a gift,” he said, his voice deep with emotion. “From you. Jane, you gave me my daughter.”
Perspiration trickled down her spine; her knees felt suddenly weak. Maybe he sensed it, because he pulled her to him, his arms going around her waist, loosely, but in a way that made her feel...safe. But not entirely safe. The length of his body was hard enough to remind her that this was unfamiliar territory, and the heat kindling in his eyes had potential to sear.
She pressed her palms flat against his chest, intending to push, to create some distance. Instead, she seemed superglued to him. “I didn’t do it for you,” she felt compelled to remind him.
His chuckle, his smile, held a tenderness she’d never seen in him. “I know. But thank you anyway.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb rested on her cheek, his fingers in her hair. “Thank you, Jane.”
It was the most natural thing in the world for his lips to meet hers.
Their touch was firm, yet gentle. Coaxing. She couldn’t help but respond, moving against him, her eyes closed against the warmth of the sun. For what seemed a long time, the kiss stayed almost chaste. Gratitude given and received. Hurts healed.
Then Kyle’s fingers moved deeper into her hair, a slow massage of her scalp. When Jane made a noise of pleasure, his tongue slipped between her parted lips.
Everything changed.
His mouth firmed, grew demanding, and Jane eagerly opened up for his exploration. He tasted of coffee and warmth and lingering mint. His taste, his scent, his fingers in her hair and the caress of his other hand, which had somehow found its way to the curve of her bottom, combined in a sensual assault she couldn’t resist.
Her arms twined around his neck and she pressed herself closer, fused herself to him. His groan acknowledged both of their needs, found an echo deep inside her.