Husband Found

by Martha Shields

  “Actually, we just ate,” Rafe told him. “We’ll take a rain check on the burgers. How about a couple of your fried pies and some coffee?”

  “Coming up.”

  “Just coffee for me,” Emma said. “Decaf.”

  Max nodded. “Sure thing. Your booth is over there waiting on you. I’ll be right out with the eats.”

  Emma turned to Rafe and lifted a brow, challenging him to lead them to “their” booth.

  He led the way unerringly, then waited until she’d seated herself before sliding onto the seat opposite her.

  She stalled for time. “So you remembered.”

  He nodded, peering around with interest. “It hasn’t changed, has it? This bench is still as hard as ever.”

  In the face of his obvious wonder, it was hard to stay mad at him for using her to regain his memories. She had much more important things to focus her anger on. But she didn’t want to get into that until Max had come and gone.

  Fortunately, he came right out.

  “Where’ve you two been?” he asked as he placed the coffee and pie on the table. “I haven’t seen y’all in—must be six or seven years.”

  “We moved out of town,” Rafe told him.

  “You couldn’t come tell old Max goodbye?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Sorry. I guess we got caught up in all the details. I got a job at the Denver Post and had to leave on assignment.”

  Max nodded. “You two ever get married? I don’t see no wedding rings.”

  Rafe met Emma’s eyes across the table. “It’s a long story. We’ll fill you in another time, all right?”

  “Sure thing. Nice to see you again.” Taking the hint, Max moved away to check on his other customers.

  Rafe held onto Emma’s gaze. “You going to tell me why you sprinted from the car like an Olympic runner?”

  “You know why. We’d just agreed to keep our relationship strictly business, then you go and—” Heat crept up her neck.

  “You can’t even say it, can you? I kissed you.”

  “Exactly.”

  Rafe glared at her. He sure as hell didn’t feel like apologizing. She was his wife, damn it, and she’d enjoyed their kiss every bit as much as he had. Until her brain got in the way.

  He dropped his gaze to his coffee. But he’d promised himself he’d keep his libido under control. He needed to be her friend, not her lover. The relationship he wanted with her was more important than momentary physical gratification.

  Besides, how far would he have taken it? If she’d got a glimpse of what was beneath his shirt, she’d have shot out of his truck for entirely different reasons.

  “Maybe us working together isn’t such a good idea,” she said.

  His head came up. “Oh, no, you don’t. You accepted the job, and I’m keeping you to your promise.”

  “Why should I keep my promise when you don’t keep yours?”

  “What promise?”

  “To keep our relationship all business.”

  “I never actually agreed to that, if you’ll recall.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “If you think that just because some piece of paper says we’re married you have an express train to my bedroom, you’re in for a rude awakening. I can’t afford a lawyer right now, but as soon as I can, I’ll—”

  “There’s no point in discussing it now.” He didn’t want her to utter the word divorce. Couldn’t stand the thought of losing this phenomenal connection to her, to his newly discovered family. “Look, I’m sorry. I got carried away. I didn’t even mean to kiss you, much less let it go so far. I won’t let it happen again. I swear.”

  Her face was filled with uncertainty. “How can I trust you after... what happened?”

  “Can you trust yourself?” he asked bluntly. “You participated in that kiss just as much as I did.”

  She looked away. “I know. I...”

  He reached across the table for her hand. “What’s so wrong with a little kiss?”

  She yanked her hand out of reach. “That was not a little kiss. If we’d been in a more private place, who knows what would’ve happened?”

  “Not what you’re thinking.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. The thought of her reaction to his scarred, mangled body made something inside him freeze. “I’m not ready to hop in bed with anyone right now, believe me.”

  “Well, I sure couldn’t tell that from the way you kissed me.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, I got a little carried away. I’m sorry.”

  His apology must’ve finally penetrated, because she visibly calmed. After a moment spent looking anywhere but at him, she said, “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just can’t deal with another man in my life right now. I can barely keep my own head above water—plus I’m responsible for Momma, Gabe and that money pit we call a house. I don’t have the time or the energy to take on anything or anyone else.”

  “I can help with—”

  “No!” Obviously realizing she’d spoken a bit too vehemently, she brought her voice down. “I can take care of myself and my family. I’ll help you with your magazine and maybe, sometimes, help you with your memories. But only if I’m the one who touches you, not the other way around. I don’t want a repeat of what just happened in your truck.”

  Rafe felt as if he’d just been slapped. Herself. Her family. She couldn’t have made it clearer—she had no use for him. She didn’t need him or anything he had to offer, except the damn job. Hurt, and angry because of it, he sat back in the booth. “The family you’re so capable of taking care of is my family, too.”

  Her gaze dropped to his untouched pie. “That’s just a technicality. As soon as I can afford it, I’ll hire a lawyer and—”

  “Technicality, hell. Gabe is my son. I have an obligation, and a right, to take care of him and to have him as a part of my life.”

  Her fists struck the table. “I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d waltz in here and try to worm your way back into my life, so you can take over everything like you always did.”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do? Walk away? Act like I don’t have a wife and son? Tell me, Emma, is that what the man you fell in love with would’ve done?”

  She deflated like a balloon with a fast leak. “That man doesn’t exist anymore. Neither does the girl who fell in love with him. You don’t even remember her.”

  She was right. He wasn’t the same man he’d been. Hell, he couldn’t even remember who that man was. And she must’ve changed, as well. But knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to reach across the table and touch her. From wanting to drag her into his arms and kiss her misgivings away. But he couldn’t. Even though he was her husband, he didn’t have the right. He might never have the right.

  “Please, Rafe...”

  He shook off the depressing thoughts and leaned forward. He couldn’t let the tears glistening in her green eyes dissuade him from his purpose. “I don’t care what you say. As Gabe’s father, I have certain rights.”

  She sucked in a horrified breath. “You’re not going to try and take him away from me?”

  “No, of course not.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “I want to get to know my son, Emma. I want him to know me. Don’t you think I have that right?”

  “You’re going to be living at the house. What more do you want?”

  “I want to hear him call me Dad,” he said softly.

  “He...he thinks Jerry’s his father.”

  Rafe’s face tightened. “He’s not.”

  “I know, but...Please. Give me time to tell Gabe in my own way.”

  He hesitated. “How much time?”

  “I don’t know. Until we figure out what we’re going to do.”

  “About what?”

  “About this...mess we’re in.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Mess? That’s what I am to you?”

  She lifted her chin. “You’ve only been risen from the dead for three days. After six and a half years thinking I was your widow,
I need some time to get my thoughts straight on what I should do.”

  Rafe sat back and studied her solemn face. He didn’t want to give her another minute. He wanted his family, and he wanted it now. After all this time not knowing who the hell he was, didn’t he deserve it?

  But if he pushed the issue now, she was sure to dig in her heels. Maybe time wasn’t such a bad idea. He’d be spending the next few months in her back pocket. They’d be working together every day. Time would let her get to know him, would let her see she didn’t have anything to fear from him. Meanwhile, he’d also be with Gabe. He could get to know his son, even if Gabe didn’t know he was his father.

  “All right,” he said quietly.

  A brief flash of surprise crossed her face, then she relaxed in obvious relief. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, then with nothing better to do, took a sip of coffee. It was cold. “So.”

  She studied his face warily, then repeated, “So?”

  “Do you have someone to fix the roof, or should I find someone?”

  She relaxed even more as she realized their intimate discussion was over—for now. “We got estimates three months ago. I know who to call.”

  “Fine. Call them tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  “I’d like to move into the carriage house this weekend, if I could. Then I won’t have to pay for another week at the motel. Even though it’s an extended-stay facility, it’s still expensive.”

  “All right. I’ll get up there after work tomorrow and start cleaning—”

  “No, you won’t. I told you I’ll hire a professional company. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow. I can probably get someone there Friday.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “About computer equipment...I don’t know what to get. Can you research that and order whatever you need?”

  Her eyes lit up. “What’s the budget?”

  “Will ten thousand dollars be enough?”

  “Ten thousand? I can get something that will do for half that.”

  He shook his head. “From what I hear, it’s better to get the best up front. So buy what you need.”

  She smiled, her eyes beginning to glow. “This could be fun.”

  The next afternoon, Emma turned into the driveway and pulled along the narrow drive to the carriage house in the back. The garage door was open, as usual, but before she could pull in, a flash of movement in the backyard made her step on the brake.

  Rafe was playing catch with Gabe. Both were dressed in jeans, shirts and baseball caps. The only difference was Rafe had on a long-sleeved shirt.

  They looked so much alike.

  Emma groaned. She was hoping she’d have a day or two before seeing Rafe again. How was she supposed to deal with this man when he didn’t give her time to recover from all the feelings he aroused in her?

  She closed her eyes against the memory of his lips touching hers the night before. Of his warm body—broader and harder than she remembered—under her all-too-sensitive hands. Of his very male scent smoking her senses, driving out her will to—

  A rap on the window made her gasp, snapping her out of her daydream. Her eyes flew open to see the star of her dreams leaning down next to the car.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She lowered the window. “What are you doing here?”

  He lifted a dark brow at her accusing tone. “I found a cleaning crew that could come this afternoon. They finished half an hour ago.”

  She sighed. “I suppose my mother invited you to stay for supper.”

  “Meals were part of the agreement, remember?”

  “After you moved in.”

  He reached into his pocket, then dangled a key in the window. “I’m officially your tenant.”

  Her hands clenched the steering wheel. “You’ve already moved in?”

  “Not quite yet. I’m having some new furniture delivered tomorrow. A decent bed and a new desk. I won’t check out of the motel until Saturday. Gabe talked me into taking him and Randy swimming in the pool there on Saturday, if it’s all right with—”

  “No,” Emma said quickly.

  Rafe’s first instinct was relief. He’d been trying all afternoon to talk Gabe into something other than swimming, knowing how much of his body was exposed in swimming trunks. Though he’d been swimming to keep his heart strong, it was in his parents’ pool in their secluded backyard. He’d swum several times since he’d been in Memphis, but only when the motel pool was deserted.

  Then he realized what Emma was doing. She was trying to keep his son away from him. Suddenly he was determined to take his son to the pool. He’d wear a wet suit if he had to. “They’re real excited about it. Gabe said he doesn’t get to go swimming much so I—”

  “You shouldn’t have promised him.” Her chin lifted. “He can’t go.”

  “Why?” he asked bluntly. “Afraid I’m going to let my son drown?”

  “No, I...”

  Emma was afraid of just the opposite—that Rafe would drown Gabe with attention, and that Gabe would love it, would love him.

  Her son was hungry for a man’s attention. That’s why she’d enrolled him in T-ball, thinking he could get all that male bonding stuff from his teammates and coach. Rafe was back in their lives now and could give her son what he so desperately needed—but for how long?

  He was here because he wanted his memories. But she was worried what would happen if he got them. She didn’t know the man who’d barged into their lives. He seemed to want his son, but he hadn’t been around when Gabe was growing up. How was he going to react when the going got rough? When the newness wore off and Gabe got sick and cranky? Or misbehaved in a child’s natural striving for independence?

  The Rafe she knew she’d have trusted not to bail out on her. But not this one. Not yet.

  And if he left after winning Gabe’s love and trust, what would happen to her son?

  Better to keep father and son apart as much as possible, and to be around when she couldn’t avoid their being together. That way, Gabe’s innocent, trusting heart would be safe. Like hers was going to be.

  She placed her hand on the window button. “I’m wasting gas.”

  Rafe leaned closer, his face hard. “Emma, if you don’t give me access to my son, I’ll have to—”

  “Rafe?” Gabe called. “You coming back?”

  Rafe straightened and half turned to reply. “Just a minute.”

  Emma seized the opportunity to end the conversation and stepped on the accelerator. She took her time gathering her things, and by the time she lowered the garage door, Rafe was again pitching to Gabe.

  She’d leave them alone for now. They were so boisterous, they couldn’t be bonding.

  She breathed a sigh, ragged with both relief and worry. This was what life was going to be like in the foreseeable future. Constantly on guard to protect herself and her son.

  Just the thought made her so tired her shoulders slumped as she walked into the house.

  Rafe pulled off his baseball cap, then pushed open the back door. He turned to see his son slowly making his way toward the house, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. “Get a move on, Gabe. Your grandmother called us in five minutes ago.”

  “I’m coming,” the boy grumbled. He finally pulled off his glove and climbed the back stairs, then threw the ball and glove on the nearest chair.

  “Is that where your equipment is stored?” Rafe asked.

  “Awww, jeeeez.” After giving him a look that said Not you, too, Gabe picked up his things and placed them in the old wicker chest that held his outside toys.

  “If you don’t take care of your baseball, it won’t last very long.” Rafe removed his son’s cap as the boy entered the house. “Go get washed up, okay?”

  “Okay.” Acting as if he was going to his execution, Gabe walked down the hall to the bathroom.

  Rafe couldn’t help smiling as he watched until the door closed. Gabe was full of energy as long as he wa
s playing, but quickly ran out when it came to chores or something distasteful like washing some part of his body.

  Shaking his head, Rafe followed the smell of corn bread into the kitchen.

  “Sure smells good,” he told Sylvia.

  She smiled at him. “Thanks for looking after Gabe for a while. It can be mighty tough keeping an eye on him while I’m cooking. He’s quite a handful.”

  Rafe placed their caps on the counter, then leaned against it. “You can say that again. I was just wondering if I was that rambunctious when I was his age.”

  “Probably.”

  “What can I do to help?” he asked her.

  She waved away his offer. “I’ve got it under control.”

  He’d already discovered that Sylvia had definite views about “men’s work” and “women’s work.” But he had to ask. His own mother expected her sons to wash dishes right along with her daughter and also expected her daughter to help mow the lawn.

  Rafe wasn’t exactly thrilled that his son was being raised in such a chauvinistic way, but if he asserted his parental authority, Emma would accuse him of trying to run her life.

  “Were you always the cook around here?” he asked. “Living in a house like this, I would think you’d have had servants.”

  “Bless me, yes. I had a cook right up until the day Cecil’s will was read. A maid, too, though neither of them lived in.” She sighed. “I had to let them go when we found out how much money we didn’t have.”

  “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking? Your husband was the president of Memphis Savings and Loan, wasn’t he?”

  She nodded. “I guess he spent all our money maintaining our standing in the community. Social life was very important to Cecil. More important than providing for his family, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “We get along. Besides, I always liked to cook. And dig in the dirt. When I was a little girl, I’d either be in here stirring peas or outside planting marigolds.”

  “So you’re the one who keeps the yard so nice.”

  “I’d put in a vegetable garden if there was a corner of the yard that got enough sun. Nothing like okra fresh off the stalk.”

  “Well, you’re good at gardening, but I especially like your cooking.” He snitched a piece of the corn bread she’d just cut.