With a chuckle, he deliberately put his fingers under her hair, angled them upward and ran his thumb along her chin. “So, you’re not thinking right now?”
“This isn’t good for either of us.”
“I don’t agree.” Suddenly he dropped his hand to his side. “It’s your decision. I can go if that’s what you want.”
When Dylan kissed her and caressed her, when he made love to her as if she were the most desirable woman in the world, she almost believed she was. If she made love with Dylan again, that’s exactly what she’d be doing—making love.
How many more regrets would she have? How many wonderful memories would she have if he stayed in Wild Horse Junction?
A little voice inside her head whispered, Men like Dylan don’t stay.
This time she didn’t listen to the voice. This time she made a conscious decision to live in the moment. This time she was fully aware that she was risking everything because she loved this man so much.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“You want me to stay for supper?” he teased, and she realized that this time she had to tell him what she wanted. This time he wouldn’t sweep her away, not unless it was a conscious decision on her part to let him.
“I want you to stop me from thinking. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to hold me until Timmy needs me again.”
If they were lucky, they had about an hour, maybe a little more.
When Dylan hungrily covered her lips with his, she realized that when she was away from him, she missed him. When she was away from him, she felt restless. When she was away from him, she felt…alone. Since February she’d thought her feelings about Dylan revolved around Timmy. But that wasn’t true and she knew it now.
She didn’t hold back as Dylan deepened the kiss. As he swept her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom, she held on. She had to hold on now because later he might be gone.
Tomorrow he might be gone.
The thoughts stopped as Dylan undressed her and caressed her. Only feeling remained.
It was enough for now.
Chapter Thirteen
On Thursday Shaye went to work and felt changed. For so long her work had been the focus of her life. Then Julia had left her a precious gift and her world revolved around a baby. Now her world revolved around Timmy…and Dylan.
Her practical self was telling her she was so in trouble and she’d never get out of it. The problem was, she didn’t want to get out of it. At the beginning of the week, after Dylan met her at Barb’s to pick up Timmy, they’d gone to her place for lunch, played with Timmy until nap time, then made love. They’d spent the whole day together on Tuesday, the Fourth of July. Both nights he’d stayed with her and she loved the intimacies they’d shared.
Today, however, her instincts were telling her something was wrong. Dylan had phoned yesterday to tell her he was working. She understood “working.” Yet something in his voice—distance, maybe—had alerted her that more than work was involved. Maybe he didn’t want to become too committed.
Maybe he was thinking about taking the assignment in Africa. Maybe being a dad was on his agenda, but not being tied down by a woman.
Last night, Timmy had been awake on and off, and Shaye hadn’t gotten much sleep. Maybe she was imagining things.
When she picked up Timmy at Barb’s, her sister-in-law pointed to the half-empty bottles on the counter. “He didn’t eat as much as usual.”
Shaye felt Timmy’s face and hands, but he was cool to the touch. “I’ll take his temperature when I get him home.”
“It could just be that he wasn’t hungry. We have days like that, too,” Barb reassured her with a smile.
“Yes, I guess we do. Is it all right if I drop him off a half hour earlier tomorrow?”
“Sure. You know I’m up. Something unusual at work?”
“I jumped right back in.”
“A special case taking up most of your time?”
“Actually, there is. Did you read in the paper about the little girl who was left alone?”
“Yes, I remember that. At the time I tried to understand the mind-set of the woman who would do that. I just couldn’t. Is the mother terrifically young? I suppose that could account for bad judgment.”
“She’s twenty and she’s back. That’s what the extra meetings are all about. I’m going to be out of the office most of the morning and you won’t be able to reach me on my cell phone. We have an appearance before a judge and I’ll have to have my phone turned off.”
“I can leave a message, though, can’t I?”
“Sure. If you do, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. I might be a little late picking Timmy up. Is that a problem?”
“Now, where else would I be but here?”
Although Shaye smiled, she insisted, “I want you to tell me if you mind.”
“I don’t mind one bit. I miss not having a baby in my arms. In fact, I’ve been having a discussion with Randall about the possibility of having another child.”
“Discussing?” Shaye asked teasingly.
Her sister-in-law’s cheeks reddened a bit. “Yes, well, I guess we have gone past discussing. I stopped my birth control last week. I’m so excited I feel like a newlywed again.”
“I’m sure Randall appreciates that.”
Both of them laughed.
“He sure does,” Barb confided. “I didn’t know how he’d feel about going through the diaper stage again since we’re way out of that now. But I think he wants to postpone having an empty nest as long as I do.”
Timmy had begun wriggling in Shaye’s arms. Kissing his forehead, she said, “Okay, big boy. Let’s go home.”
“Is Dylan coming over this afternoon?”
“He didn’t say. I know he’s working on an article and he has a deadline on it.”
“He’s really good with Timmy. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. I haven’t seen him back away once from anything baby-related. Or is he just putting on a good show for me?”
“No, Dylan isn’t like that.” Over the past few days, she’d stopped questioning his motives. Over the past few days, she’d tumbled head over heels more in love with him.
By the time Shaye gave Timmy his bath that evening, she wondered if Dylan was still working. Her phone rang as she laid Timmy in his crib and started his mobile. As if he’d read her mind, Dylan said, “Hi, there. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but I got caught up in what I was doing and forgot the time.”
“What were you doing?”
There was only a slight hesitation. “I was reformatting the mustang shots, and I had a few international calls to make. With the time difference, I didn’t have much leeway on when I had to make them.”
“I understand,” she said, and she did. She knew Dylan wasn’t used to accounting for his time. “Do you want to come over for a nightcap?” She asked the question lightly, wanting to know if there was something bothering him, if there was a reason she hadn’t seen him since Tuesday.
“I’d like that,” he said, sounding as if he meant it. “But I have to finish the copy on some photos and journal entries.”
“Journal entries?”
“I keep a journal when I’m on a shoot—descriptions, names of places, that kind of thing. Anyway, I have to fax this in the morning.”
With her pride taking center stage now, she didn’t ask him what he was going to be doing this weekend, though she wanted to. Had he already had enough? Was he tired of her?
“Why don’t you go, then,” she murmured. “Good luck with your article.”
“I’ll see you sometime tomorrow,” he assured her. “Then we can make definite plans.”
“All right.” She wanted to say she missed him, but that wouldn’t be a good idea at all.
When she hung up the phone, tears pricked in her eyes, but she blinked them away, went to stand at Timmy’s crib and gave her son another good-night kiss.
To Shaye’s relief, Timmy slept through the night.
Friday morning was overcast as she went to his room when she heard him crying. She saw at once that his nose was running. When she took his temperature with the ear thermometer, it registered at ninety-nine point eight. She could expect a low-grade fever might accompany a cold.
Forty-five minutes later, she was standing in Barb’s living room, not at all sure she should leave for work.
“He’ll be fine,” Barb assured her. “Babies get colds. Go to work. When you get out of court, give me a call and I’ll give you an update.”
Although Shaye left Timmy with her sister-in-law, she had an uneasy feeling in her chest. But she told herself there was nothing she could do if she stayed home with Timmy. The cold would have to run its course.
By noon, Dylan swore in frustration. Shaye wasn’t answering her cell phone. With her incommunicado, he decided to stop at Barb’s to see Timmy and to find out if Shaye just wasn’t answering his messages. He’d had work to do and that had caused a strain between them. He’d never had to be concerned about unorthodox hours before because he’d never had a serious involvement.
Was his involvement with Shaye serious?
When Barb opened her door, he could hear Timmy crying and Shaye’s sister-in-law looked upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“Timmy’s coughing now and wheezing slightly. I can’t get hold of Shaye because she’s at the courthouse. I was about to take Timmy’s temperature.”
So, that was why he couldn’t reach Shaye. Moving inside the house with Barb, Dylan went to the crib she had set up in one corner of the family room. “Let’s take it,” he said.
After she read the ear thermometer, Barb paled. “It’s one hundred and three.”
“Did Shaye leave a list of emergency numbers?”
“Yes, I have them on the refrigerator.”
Dylan hurried to get it himself. Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed the number for Dr. Carrera’s office. Although he was a neonatologist, he followed his little patients until they were six months old, then transferred them to a pediatrician. Dylan was glad Dr. Carrera knew Timmy’s history. “We have to call Shaye’s supervisor. There’s got to be somebody who can get a message to her.”
While the phone line at the doctor’s office rang, Dylan prayed the man was available, prayed whatever was wrong with Timmy wasn’t as serious as he thought.
Shaye’s hands shook as she clutched her purse and ran through the emergency room to the reception desk, panic biting hard at her heels. “Where’s Timmy Grayson?” she asked, her breath catching.
“And you are?”
“I’m Shaye Bartholomew, his legal guardian.”
“Oh, I see. Let me check.” The woman studied her computer screen. After a few clicks, she announced, “He’s in Pediatric ICU.”
Shaye had been coming out of the judge’s chambers—relieved the judge had determined Jessie would stay in foster care until her mother went through rehab—when her supervisor had appeared, giving her Dylan’s message. “He wants you to call the hospital to talk to Dr. Carrera. Something about having your permission to treat Timmy.”
Shaye had spoken to the doctor, who had said he wanted to hook Timmy up to an IV and take an X-ray of his lungs. Shaye had agreed, telling him she would be right there.
“Can you page my brother, Randall, and have him meet me in PEDS ICU?”
“I already did that at Mr. Malloy’s request.”
Without wasting another moment, Shaye spun around and ran into the elevator, stabbing the button a few times. She almost decided to run to the stairs and climb the few flights when the elevator doors swished open. Stepping inside, she tried to control the fear that was making her tremble all over.
She knew her way to PEDS. Timmy had spent time there after he’d been transferred from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
Walking down the corridor, too many memories came rushing back of the first few days after Timmy had been born…when she’d seen Dylan…when she’d cried in his arms.
She felt so guilty she hadn’t stayed home. She felt so guilty she hadn’t realized her baby had something more serious than a cold. He wouldn’t be here if a cold were the only problem. Dr. Carrera had simply said he was having respiratory distress. That could mean so many things.
Dylan and Randall were outside one of the cubicles, staring in through the glass. Inside, Dr. Carrera stood at the view light, examining X-rays. In the crib, Timmy was hooked up to an IV and oxygen.
“Dylan?” she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.
When he turned to look at her, his expression was strained. “We don’t know what’s wrong, yet. He was wheezing, Shaye. Having trouble breathing.”
“Oh, my God.” She put her hand over her mouth and tried to keep from crying. Dylan didn’t comfort her and didn’t put his arm around her. He looked as if he were raging his own battle to keep a tight lid on panic. Randall stepped to her side and squeezed her shoulder.
“Did he have a temperature this morning?” Dylan asked. His tone was neutral, not accusatory.
“No. I mean, it was ninety-nine point eight. I thought he just had a little cold.” Had he been breathing harder? If she’d put her ear to Timmy’s chest, would she have heard wheezing?
Guilt ate at her.
Randall explained, “Barb went home because the kids will be coming home from day camp. You’re supposed to call her as soon as you know anything.”
Dr. Carrera exited the cubicle as a nurse took a vial from a nearby table and added medication to the IV. Randall pulled Shaye toward a waiting area. Although she wanted to go to Timmy, she knew she had to first hear what Dr. Carrera had to say.
The physician didn’t waste any time in explaining. “He has bronchitis, and we’re administering antibiotics to ward off secondary infection. We’ll see how he does in the next twelve hours.”
“It happened so fast,” Shaye murmured, not as an excuse but because she still felt dazed being back here in this place where Timmy had fought for his life once before.
The doctor looked at her kindly. “Timmy was a preemie and possibly more susceptible for this to happen. But you can’t put a baby in a hermetically sealed bubble. I’ll be back to check on him in a few hours. The nurse will page me if there’s any change. I’m sorry you have to wait and hope and pray again.” He gave her what was meant to be a comforting smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you later. You and Dylan can sit with him if you like. No time limit.”
After Dr. Carrera left, Randall gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. “I’ll give Barb a call. You go in with Timmy. I know that’s where you want to be.”
Turning to Dylan, she hoped to read the emotion in his eyes but she could only see one—worry. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing it had to be said. “I’m so sorry. Maybe you should adopt him. If he had been with you, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. At least, if you had had joint custody, they wouldn’t have had to wait to treat him.”
“There wasn’t much of a delay, and this isn’t the time to discuss this. Why don’t you go in with him? There’s a sheaf of papers you have to sign. I’ll go get them.”
Inside Timmy’s cubicle, Shaye pulled a chair close to the crib, sat and kept her hand on Timmy’s little arm, needing the contact, praying he could fight off the infection.
At least fifteen minutes later Dylan returned with the papers. He sat by Timmy’s bed as she moved to the table across the room and read and signed the documents. The nurse was present more often than not and they didn’t talk. After Dylan returned the papers to the desk, he kept a silent vigil with her. Every once in a while their gazes met, but she couldn’t stare into those green eyes long, wishing she could read what he was thinking. Whatever bonds had developed between them were clouded now by what had happened to Timmy and their anxiety about him.
While she prayed, Dylan saw to their physical needs and practical concerns. At one point, he brought them coffee and told her he’d contacted Kylie and Gwen. They sent their love. When he
r brother stopped in for a while, Dylan went to get them something to eat. She told him she wasn’t hungry but he insisted she down at least half a sandwich. She did, every bite tasting like cardboard. She was wired enough without the coffee, but she kept drinking it because he brought it.
Before visiting hours ended, Gwen and Kylie stopped by. Dylan encouraged her to take a few minutes to visit with them. As she did, their friendship wrapped around her like the cocoon she needed right now. They assured her they’d stop in again the following day.
Dr. Carrera came in twice, along with a pulmonary physician. Timmy’s temperature had dropped to a hundred and two and he took that as a good sign. But Shaye knew her son wasn’t out of the woods yet. Throughout the long night, Dylan sat with her, but neither shared their thoughts. All of their attention was focused on Timmy and willing him to get better.
With the change of nurses on the morning shift, Timmy’s temperature went down further. It was below one hundred and Dr. Carrera examined him with a smile. “This little guy’s a fighter. We’ve seen that before.”
The tightness in Dylan’s chest released and gratitude washed through him. He hadn’t prayed in years, but last night he’d prayed as he’d never prayed before. He’d been so arrogant to think taking care of a baby was easy. Throughout the night, reality had struck and he’d seen the more conservative side of being a parent, wanting to always keep your child safe and out of harm. He’d practically scoffed at Shaye’s fears and now he realized how terribly wrong that had been. In fact, he realized a lot of things. A strong woman, Shaye was almost at her limit after the night of worrying about Timmy.
Dylan saw her chin quiver and then her eyes grow moist, right before she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and said, “Thank you, Dr. Carrera.”
The physician laid a gentle hand on Shaye’s shoulder. “Go get something to eat and get some sleep. Both of you. I want to keep Timmy here today, but if all goes well, you can take him home tomorrow.”
A nurse was checking Timmy’s IV as the doctor left.
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