Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever GirlMoonlight in ParisWife by Design

by Liz Talley

  Maybe Lynn had arranged it. Maybe that’s why she’d taken the call.

  “Kara’s.”

  The kid was only three. Way too young to have a bag to pack.

  “She’s going somewhere? Without you?”

  “Yeah.” Lynn didn’t look too happy about it. And his hackles rose again. For a completely different reason. If Lynn didn’t want her daughter to go someplace, then no one had the right to make her go.

  “She’s going to spend the night with her father,” Lynn said slowly. “In San Francisco.”

  The city was three hours away.

  “Her father lives in San Francisco?” He’d assumed the guy was still in Santa Raquel. Or jail.

  “He moved there a year ago.”

  Grant moved closer to her, wanting to take those shadows out of her eyes.

  He’d done a little reading over the past couple of weekends. About abused women. A disturbing percentage of them went back to the life they’d left.

  Time and distance changed perspective, softened memories and...

  “You think it’s a good idea to send her off to be alone with him?” he asked, because it was clear that she wasn’t happy about the situation.

  “I don’t want to send her,” Lynn said, a wry smile on her lips. “But yes, I think it’s a good idea or I wouldn’t have agreed to do so.”

  “You don’t have to send her?”

  “Not technically.”

  “Have you talked to Lila about this? Or Sara?”

  “No. Why would I do that?”

  He didn’t want to make her defensive. When he made Darin defensive they got nowhere fast.

  “I don’t know. Just in case...”

  “In case what?”

  Lowering his chin to his chest, he looked up at her and then away. “I don’t know. Do you think she’ll be safe with him?”

  “He’s her father, Grant!”

  Wow. He’d overstepped on that one. She’d never given him any reason to believe that she wanted him as a confidant. Or even a friend.

  “He’s never...hurt...her, then?” Why wasn’t he letting this go?

  “Of course not!” The horror on Lynn’s face couldn’t be faked. “Brandon loves Kara more than anything on earth. He’d give his life for her.”

  He should stop. But couldn’t. Even if he pissed her off. Because Kara was...three. And...

  “If he hurt you, don’t you think there’s even a remote possibility that—”

  “Hurt me? We’re divorced—of course I was hurt—but just because he didn’t want to be married to me doesn’t mean that he’ll ever abandon his daughter. He’s a great father.”

  Jealousy screwed up his logic for a second. He sidestepped it. Forced himself to focus.

  “I’m not talking about emotional hurt or abandonment.”

  She stood, hands out on either side of her. “Then what are you talking about?” she asked, her face lifted up to his. Those blue eyes were wide and searching—and unusually open to the heart and soul he was trying to avoid.

  In way over his head, Grant swallowed.

  He cared about her. Whether she wanted to be his friend or not.

  “I... You’re here, at the Stand. A resident. He... Brandon... Kara’s father... Your ex-husband...” Get it out, Bishop. Everyone present knew who the man was. “Did he hit you?”

  He couldn’t pretend now that his personal interest was just about sex.

  “Brandon? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.” But he was beginning to think he had her all wrong.

  “Brandon would no more lift a hand to me than slit his own throat.”

  “You weren’t abused?”

  “No! I had no idea you thought that.”

  “You’re here.”

  “Because I had an aunt who was killed by her abusive husband,” Lynn said. “My mother’s sister. And because my own sister was abused. That’s why my parents are in Denver and don’t get home much. Katie’s ex managed to get all domestic violence charges dropped. He not only got joint custody of their kids, but he wants her back, as well. My folks live with her in the hopes they can prevent that from happening. And to watch over the kids. Mom can’t bear the thought of losing Katie like she lost her sister.

  “Anyway, when I saw how my sister, who’d been raised, as I was—to be completely aware of the signs of mental and emotional abuse—fell prey to it, I knew this was a disease even more insidious than the cancers and viruses I saw at the hospital. I started volunteering here. When my marriage broke up, Brandon offered to put me through the yearlong master’s program I needed to certify as a midwife practitioner so that I could work full-time as a chief medical officer for a shelter. I was halfway through the program when the full-time position here opened up. I applied and they hired me, with the mandate that I complete my certification. I did and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “How long is ever since?”

  “Two and a half years.”

  He counted backward.

  “Your husband left you right after Kara was born?”

  “More or less. She was five weeks old when I knew my marriage was over.”

  The shadows in her eyes stabbed at him.

  Grant had no idea what to say. Or do, either.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. And said, “I don’t think you should send her up there.”

  What kind of guy walked out on his wife and brand-new baby daughter?

  “I’m going to have to let her go sometime,” she said. “And Brandon’s so good about bringing her home to spend the night in her own bed on the weekends that he’s here for his visitations.”

  “How often does he come down?”

  “Every other weekend.”

  “He comes down from San Francisco every other weekend?”

  He did some more math. That meant the guy had been there, with Lynn and Kara, since he and Darin had been coming to the Stand.

  “Yeah. Kara adores him.”

  So. Good. They had it all nicely wrapped up.

  They didn’t need him.

  Which was fine, because he didn’t have room in his life for them, either.

  * * *

  GRANT HAD BEEN different when he’d said goodbye and left Lynn to meet Darin for lunch.

  Distant.

  She hadn’t liked it. At all.

  On and off all afternoon, whenever she was in between patients, or in her office and supposed to be charting, she ran their cabin conversation over and over in her mind.

  She went in to restock supplies in the exam rooms and thought of the morning Grant had been in there with her.

  She’d wanted him to get intimate with her.

  That morning, when she’d stood with him in the cabin, she’d actually felt weak with wanting him—wanting him to touch her. And she’d known that if he’d tried, she wouldn’t have stopped him.

  She dropped the plastic jar that she’d picked up to refill with cotton balls. The lid rolled under the exam table.

  It wouldn’t have been right. Letting him touch her. She’d have regretted it later.

  But she’d have let him.

  Opening the sterile sack of cotton balls with gloved hands, Lynn shoved a handful into the jar and set it back on the counter.

  He had that way of staring at her mouth. As if he wanted to know what she tasted like.

  On her hands and knees, Lynn reached under the exam table, retrieved the lid and dropped it in the sterilizer.

  For all she knew, Grant Bishop eyed all the women he knew like he eyed her.

  She didn’t think so, but what did she know? It wasn’t as though she had loads of experience.

  But she did know one thing. She couldn’t just le
ave things as they were.

  Finished stocking her supplies, she closed and locked the clinic doors and went out the back door, heading straight for the Garden of Renewal.

  With any luck, Grant would still be there alone.

  * * *

  GRANT WASN’T AT the garden. No one was there. Lynn walked through the three-acre oasis, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. The garden had always been bordered and shaded by strategically placed maple and oak trees—some of which had been growing on the land before it had been developed. The trees created “walls” for a private roomlike feel, setting the garden off from the rest of the property.

  Inside had been mostly ground-cover plants and the gazebo with its wooden picnic tables.

  Today, while it was still taped off and not completely finished, the Garden of Renewal was exquisite. A haven. As close to heaven as anything Lynn had ever seen.

  Feeling as if she was trespassing, she walked along a mulched pathway that threaded through various-size pine boxes, filled with every kind of plant and flower she could imagine. The scents wafted up, intoxicating her. The colors brought tears to her eyes. Wooden benches set apart for privacy not only lined the pathway but were placed off the path, as well, in the trees, surrounded by ground cover. And in the midst of it all was the fountain. Water trailing down over a boulder. Enough to make the sound of a waterfall, but not swift enough to give any sense of urgency or speed.

  As she got closer, she could see why the area was still cordoned off. Electrical wires stood up, capped, around the fountain and the large, kidney-shaped pool that fed the fountain.

  There were more wires along a small stream that wound from the pool into another area of the garden—one filled with greenery and a couple of additional smaller benches. This section of the garden reminded her of a prayer forest she’d been to once when she was a kid at camp.

  As she looked more closely, she noticed other capped wires set surreptitiously around the acreage.

  Lynn wanted to pick a bench—any of the ten or so she could see—and just stay awhile.

  “I was going to invite you down when I had it all finished.”

  If she’d been holding anything, she’d have dropped it. Twirling around, Lynn saw Grant at the entrance to the garden, his brown eyes glinting with that...something...that existed between them.

  “I came out here looking for you and then just couldn’t help myself. Grant, this is beyond anything I’d imagined or expected.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not done yet.”

  “I’m just so... I had no idea.”

  He walked toward her and she met him partway. She didn’t want a man in her life. But in the garden, in those moments, the only thing she wanted was Grant. The outside world faded into insignificance for that time.

  And she had a man again. For sex. But for more than that. She had what Brandon had taken away from her. A companion by her side. Caring about her and their lives first and foremost.

  Not a husband. But more than a friend.

  He stopped about a foot in front of her. Close enough to touch, but not touching. “Seriously, Grant, you’re wasting your talent on yard work.”

  His business wasn’t any of her business. But what he’d created here...

  With a grin lifting one side of his mouth, he cocked his head and said, “You do realize that I don’t spend my days mowing grass and trimming bushes, don’t you?”

  God, she loved that grin. “I know you’re the boss. That Luke, Craig and, when he’s able, Darin do most of the manual labor.”

  If he moved a little closer, they could flirt with the idea of something between them. Make innuendo that she could take with her into her bathtub later that night.

  “Bishop Landscaping doesn’t do yard maintenance,” he said. “Except as part of completing a project. Or when we go in for remodel or repair.”

  He was staring at her lips again. She moistened them and asked, “What do you do?”

  “I’m a landscape architect.”

  Oh. Feeling stupid, she took a step back, glancing over at him. “I’m sorry. I thought you had a landscape business, as in you maintained yards for clients.”

  “We started out that way,” he said. “When Luke and I were at college we made extra cash by mowing yards. That venture grew to trimming trees, and then doing general irrigation systems maintenance. We continued to grow that business until I started getting enough design jobs to support us all.”

  “I feel horrible that we’re wasting your time with mowing and trimming.”

  “It’s not a waste of my time. I’ve kind of enjoyed the return to the manual part of the business. And the brainless part, too,” he added, grinning at her again.

  He was such a combination of professional and down to earth, of stereotypical guy and caregiver.

  “You said you’d come out here to find me.” He had that look in his eye again. Slumberous and vitally alive all at once.

  As though he found her intoxicating.

  And that was just plain crazy.

  “I...” She should just let it go.

  And remembered how down she’d been all day.

  She’d come out here for a reason.

  But maybe not a good one.

  Reaction without thought spelled disaster. Or, at the very least, heartbreak.

  She’d had enough of that.

  Vacillating wasn’t like her.

  He moved closer. Close enough that she could smell the freshly cut grass on him. And something musky, too.

  “Before, you said you’d like to be my friend.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s right.”

  “I didn’t answer you and that was rude. I...came out to apologize.”

  That was partially true.

  “Apology accepted. Is that it?”

  He knew. It was as though his gaze bore right into her brain, as though he could read everything there.

  “No. I came to tell you that I think us as friends would be good.”

  The smile that slowly spread on his face made her feel drunk. Or maybe it was the smell of all the flowers getting to her.

  “I was actually at your place.”

  “You were? Did you see Maddie?”

  “Yeah. She opened the door before I could knock to tell me to be quiet so I didn’t wake Kara.”

  “A cannon going off wouldn’t wake her.”

  “She also told me you weren’t home.”

  “I had an appointment cancel this afternoon. I was going to make an early day of it, but wanted to stop by here first.”

  Her lips were dry again. She was moist in other places.

  “I took another look around your backyard area. I’ve got an idea and thought, if you were up for it, I could get those lights installed for you on Saturday. I’ll be done with the Garden of Renewal tomorrow.”

  She’d be saying goodbye to Kara for her first overnight visit. For the first time since her daughter’s birth she was going to be in a different city than her.

  “Saturday would be perfect,” she said.

  If anything could distract her from the depression of Kara’s absence—from the sadness and grief that continued to linger at the demise of her happy family life—Grant Bishop could.

  His head dropped, and then he looked up at her. “Eight o’clock okay?” he asked.

  “In the morning?” She heard the question and knew that it was asinine. He wasn’t going to install landscape lighting at night.

  Brandon was due to pick Kara up at ten.

  “Yeah, I thought morning would be best.”

  He smiled. Her blood ran hot.

  “Eight is fine. And...with Kara leaving, Maddie won’t be there so it would be the best time to have Darin around.” She tried to s
tay focused. To listen to her mind, which she could trust, and not get waylaid by emotions, which weren’t trustworthy at all.

  “Do you have early appointments?”

  She shook her head. And wondered what his kiss would feel like. “Not until the afternoon.”

  She planned it that way on purpose so she could be at home when Brandon came to collect Kara. And thinking of her ex somehow led to the reminder that she hadn’t had sex in three years.

  “But...you have to let me pay you,” she said, desperate to keep herself on track. “I make okay money, Grant, and I don’t have a mortgage. Let me pay your company the going rate.”

  He grinned again. A slow grin that made her feel as if he’d just taken her clothes off. “Lady, you can’t afford me.”

  “Try me.”

  He named a price. She didn’t blanch. But if she’d tried to speak she would have choked.

  “Too much, huh?” His head at a slight angle, he studied her. She didn’t want to fail his test.

  “No,” she finally managed, and her voice sounded fine. Years of practice in the medical field paying off, probably. “I can afford you.”

  But she couldn’t. Not financially. And not emotionally, either.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HE SAW LYNN twice on Friday. Both times she’d been walking within view of the Garden of Renewal. She waved. He waved back. And his thoughts of her were hotter than the lights he was wiring—the finishing touch on the garden.

  By the time he collected Darin from his afternoon therapy session, he was ready to remove the caution tape from around the newly remodeled garden.

  He told Darin the second he saw him, lifting his left hand to Darin’s right for a high five, a ritual at the completion of every job.

  “I don’t know why you keep coming here to get me, Grant,” Darin said, leaving Grant’s hand hanging in midair.

  “I like to watch the last few minutes of therapy each day so I can see how well you’re progressing,” he said, aware of the slightly petulant tone of his voice.

  He was hurt. He knew he had absolutely no right to be, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.