The Sergeant's Secret Son

by Bonnie Gardner

  And more than just kisses.

  Alex was being such a gentleman. On one level, Macy appreciated his restraint, but at a deeper, more visceral level, she’d wanted him to…She just wanted him. “Don’t stop, Alex. Don’t stop,” she begged.

  Alex kissed her harder, more thoroughly, deeper. He explored with his tongue, tasting her, teasing her with promises of what had to come.

  But still he seemed to be holding back, keeping from her what would assuage her pain once and for all, what would make her feel alive again. She pressed against his strong, unyielding body, hoping that he would understand what she wanted, she needed.

  Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Make love to me, Alex. Make love to me,” she’d whispered, hardly believing that she’d actually uttered the words. “Make the hurt go away. Make me forget.”

  He hesitated at first. “Are you sure?” he’d whispered in return, his voice as husky and needy as hers.

  She nodded, too taut with emotion and need to answer. “Yes,” she answered. “If you don’t, I’ll surely explode from wanting.”

  Macy’s face grew yet hotter, and she fanned herself with the empty cardboard box from the chocolate-covered raisins she’d convinced herself were healthy and therefore a better choice than butter-saturated popcorn. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead, and she wondered briefly if she might be getting sick.

  Of course not, she told herself sternly. The only kind of sick you are is lovesick. No, not lovesick. They hadn’t had time to develop love. She was just plain old, garden-variety randy. And the only cure for that was Alex.

  And after the way Alex had stormed so angrily out of the clinic today, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to regain his trust after the way she’d let him down. Much less his love.

  If she’d ever had it.

  Finally the movie was over, and she ushered Cory out of the darkened theater.

  Macy blinked in the bright light outside. She knew she was going to have to face Alex sooner or later, and she certainly hoped it would be later. But no matter how much later the confrontation came, it would be too soon for her. Why hadn’t she simply called him to tell him she was expecting his child when she’d first realized that she was pregnant?

  Of course, at the time she’d been so confused, shocked and disappointed in herself that she had barely been able to face it. After watching so many other young women make the wrong choices in life, she’d sworn not to be one of them. Even before she’d earned her medical license, she’d preached education first, then marriage, then children to anyone who would listen and some who wouldn’t.

  Well, she had the education—almost—when Cory was born. And she still hoped that, one day, she’d find the right man. She’d just done everything in the wrong order. Some example she was. She had been a week from the end of her residency. She had simply given birth to Cory and made up the time she missed during summer session and nobody at home had been the wiser.

  A car horn honked and brought her out of her fog, and Macy looked up. “Come on, Cory. We’re blocking the parking lot. I just have some problems I need to work out.”

  “THANKS, JENNIFER. Remember, money is no object.” Feeling as though he’d really made some progress, Block hung up the phone. Jennifer Larsen had sounded so competent and sure of herself that her confidence had apparently rubbed off on him. He had no doubt that in a few days he’d have news about Corny Jackson. And he was certain that the news would be good.

  And even if it weren’t quite what he expected, it would help give Macy some closure.

  Of course, now he just had to figure out what to do about Macy in the here and now. Most important, he wanted—no, he needed—to get to know his son.

  And to do that, he was going to have to work something out with Macy. And as skittish as she’d been the last few days, that was going to be a real problem.

  He heard the sound of a car pulling up to the house next door. Finally! Macy must be home. He’d been afraid that she was going to make herself and his son scarce the entire time he was here on leave.

  He stepped out onto the porch and stood under the yellow bug light and watched her. She didn’t turn, but Block was certain that Macy was aware that he was standing there.

  Macy had parked in front of her house, and now she was hustling Cory inside as if a pack of demons were after them, or as though she didn’t want anyone to see them. Not just anyone. She hadn’t wanted him to see them. Of that, Block was certain.

  She glanced over her shoulder and, for a brief moment, their gazes met and held. Then she dragged her gaze away from his and hurried inside.

  But she couldn’t hide from him forever.

  When he started work at the recruiting station in Florence and was around all the time, it would be harder for her to keep out of sight. He’d be here all the time, he’d lie in wait, he’d…

  He stepped back inside. The living room was dim and gloomy, and he turned to reach for a light switch but stopped.

  He realized that he’d just made the decision to accept the recruiter job. Until this moment he hadn’t been completely sure he wanted to stay in South Carolina. But now that he knew he had a son here, there was no way he could stay away.

  Block stepped into the kitchen. Not because Gramma was there busily preparing supper, but because he could get a view of what was going on in Macy’s house next door.

  Block stood in the middle of the roomy kitchen and stared out the window. A light came on in Macy’s kitchen and Block could see that she was preparing dinner, too. He wondered vaguely if she’d ever cook for him.

  Macy must have realized that he was watching her, for she looked up, then looked away. Then she reached up and pulled down the shade.

  THE AIR CONDITIONER wasn’t working, thanks to the storm, and Macy had been hoping to make do without it since the temperatures usually moderated come fall. She’d drawn the drapes that morning to keep the sun from heating the house even further, but now that she’d been cooking, it felt like a steam bath inside. And, of course, it was Saturday and she wouldn’t get a repairman to come until Monday.

  Hot and sticky, Macy settled on the bed beside Cory and reached for the book he’d selected for his bedtime story. The Velveteen Rabbit. One of her favorites. She began to read.

  Moments later, story finished, Macy bent down to kiss her sleeping son on his close-cropped head. Boys were such sweet things. It was men that were trouble.

  She started to pick up the jumble of toys that littered the living room and sighed as she carried them to the toy box in the corner of the kitchen. Without thinking, she glanced through the window toward the Blocker house. The lights were on, but she couldn’t see anyone. She sighed again, long and deep, just like the lovesick adolescent she’d once been, constantly looking toward the Blocker house.

  Hoping for a glimpse of Alex.

  Why she wanted to see him, she didn’t know. Yes, she did. They were going to have to come to some sort of resolution regarding Cory. She had no doubt that now that Alex knew about his son, he’d want to know him. To have regular visitation with him.

  To take him from her?

  No, she told herself sternly. She would never let that happen.

  Macy slumped down on the couch and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. It was so hard raising a child alone, but it was more bearable than the thought that Alex might want to take him away.

  She’d changed her clothes after the movie, putting on shorts and a camp shirt to try to stay cool. But her skin was still sticky and hot and moist. She tossed the pillow aside, and she unbuttoned her cotton shirt and flapped the open edges to make a breeze that did nothing to cool her.

  Hadn’t she had enough trouble to handle for one week? First the tornado, Alex returning, and then the stupid, broken air conditioner?

  Macy blew out an impatient breath. The sooner Alex Blocker went back to where he came from, the better, as far as she was concerned. Maybe then she could stop holding her breath and waiting for the
other boot to fall. She couldn’t bear it if Alex tried to take Cory away from her. Even in a shared custody situation.

  She glanced out the open window and sighed long and deep. She still had a crush on Alex, just as she’d had when she was an adolescent, but she knew now that Alex wasn’t the least bit interested in her.

  He wanted her son.

  She had to figure out what to do about that. As far as she was concerned, she and Cory were a package deal. And Alex Blocker was not going to come between them.

  BLOCK PACED the living room restlessly, waiting until he was certain that Macy had put Cory down to sleep. Sure, he wanted to see the kid—his kid—again, but he wanted to do it without scaring Cory half to death.

  As much as he wanted to be civilized about this, he was mad as hell, and he was going to give Macy a piece of his mind.

  It might not accomplish anything, but it’d make him feel better.

  Maybe.

  MACY LOOKED at the magazine in her lap, then laid it down on the cushion beside her. If she was going to try to read, she needed more light. She reached for the switch.

  As the room flooded with light, someone pounded loudly, impatiently, on the front door, and Macy clutched at her throat, startled by the unexpected noise. Her heart pounded as if it were trying to run right out of her body.

  She swallowed to force her heart back into place and moistened her lips. “Wh-who is it?” she croaked, barely able to speak. As if she didn’t already know who was out there.

  “It’s me.”

  Alex. He was so sure of himself he hadn’t even bothered to give his name. Damn him. Damn him for coming back now and ruining everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  Macy started for the door, then stopped inches from the only barrier that stood between her and Alex’s anger. She had no doubt that if Alex really wanted to come in, that door wouldn’t stop him, but it had so far, and Macy was going to take advantage of that momentary safety.

  “Just a minute,” she called, her voice surer this time. “I’m not dressed.” She had to say something to keep him from wondering why she wouldn’t open the door. She wasn’t dressed properly. That much was true. She could button her blouse, and she’d be completely covered.

  But she needed more clothing, more shielding her from Alex and his anger, than could be provided by a thin cotton blouse and a pair of short shorts. Even if she could force her trembling fingers to button the shirt, it wouldn’t be enough. A suit of armor wouldn’t be enough.

  She hurried to her room and grabbed a robe off the hook behind the door. It might not be pretty, but it would cover her. And though she was certain she was in no real danger of Alex ravishing her tonight, not while he was so angry, she needed all the symbolic protection the robe would provide.

  “Coming,” she called again as she wrapped the old chenille robe around her and tied it snugly at her waist. Her face was moist with perspiration from the sultry air, and her hair curled damply around her face, but she couldn’t do anything about that, considering the heat and Alex’s obvious impatience. The robe covered her shorts, but she pulled it all the way up to her chin, as well. Macy drew a deep breath and yanked the door open.

  “What do you w—” Macy’s question froze on her lips when she saw Alex.

  He stood tall and straight, one hand propped against the doorjamb. He seemed to be looking idly off into the distance, but Macy could tell by his erect, almost stiff stance that he was ready for anything. Even in well-pressed khakis and a cream-colored knit shirt that stretched tightly across his broad chest, he looked more like a man girded for battle than one coming to call.

  He turned slowly as if he were trying to conserve his energy for later. Or was he merely trying to maintain control? “We have some things to settle,” he said coldly. His words seemed to hang in the air, dripping icicles.

  Macy could see the thin sheen of sweat on his dark and furrowed brow from the thick, sultry air, but his manner was cold as an iceberg in January.

  She stepped aside and held the door open for him. In spite of his frosty manner, she could feel the heat radiating from his massive, muscled body as he brushed past her. If he had been a stranger, he might have frightened her, but it was just Alex. And as angry as he might be, Macy was pretty sure he wouldn’t harm her.

  He might break her heart, but he wouldn’t break any bones.

  Block looked around as he waited for Macy to close the door behind her. The house was a mirror twin to Gramma’s. It was divided into four quarters: a front room, a combination kitchen-dining room, and two bedrooms with an old-fashioned bathroom in between. Though Gramma’s had a homey, lived-in feel, Macy’s, decorated with simple lines and open spaces, seemed more modern and up-to-date.

  “I was getting ready for a bath,” Macy said, her voice breathless as he entered the room.

  Block started to step past her, to take a seat on the long, cushioned couch, but he stopped when he noticed the way her coffee-and-cream complexion seemed to be flushed and damp. He’d seen women look like that before. Hell, he’d seen Macy look like that before. It was the kind of a look that meant she’d been well and thoroughly loved. He remembered it well.

  How could he forget?

  His pants tightened at the memory, and a jolt of irrational jealousy surged through him. Who had been loving her? She must have everybody in town fooled with her angel act. But not him. He knew that look.

  She had a man with her. In this house. Right now.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing messing around with some man while my kid is in the house?” Block demanded.

  Macy stared at him. The idea was so ludicrous that laughter bubbled at the edge of her lips, but she swallowed it quickly. Alex was dead serious. Did he really believe that she was entertaining a man? What had made him think that?

  He obviously believed what he’d just accused her of, because he filled her room with anger so palpable that she could barely breathe. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Alex started toward the bedroom, but then he stopped and turned quickly. He reached toward her, and Macy couldn’t help flinching and stepping back, but Alex was too quick. He caught her arm and pulled her to his broad chest, crushing her against him.

  In spite of the sticky heat in the room, Macy’s blood ran cold. What did Alex have in mind? Why was he holding her so tightly and staring so intently at her?

  “You’re frightening me, Alex. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Macy tried to push away, but Alex just held her tighter.

  “Sure you do, Macy,” he said through clenched teeth. “After all, it isn’t the first time I’ve seen that well-loved look on your face, or have you forgotten?” He laughed, the sound far from comforting, and chills raced down Macy’s spine. “I thought only I could bring out the roses in your cheeks and make you hot and wet for wanting me.”

  He let her go so quickly that Macy staggered.

  “Apparently, I was wrong,” he muttered.

  What did Alex want to hear from her? And how could he have thought that she was with a man?

  Then it came to her. The robe, the dampness from the heat, the color in her cheeks had all conspired to convince him that she wasn’t alone.

  Was Alex Blocker actually jealous? Of some imagined lover? Macy turned away in time to conceal the smile of satisfaction that crept slowly across her face.

  She pressed her lips firmly together to erase the triumphant gleam from her face, then turned back toward him.

  “There is no man in this house other than you,” she answered icily, “and you’re behaving more like a jackass than a man. And if there were a man here, it would be none of your business,” she continued carefully, deadly slow. “Who I choose to entertain and how I entertain him is none of your affair.”

  Alex looked as if someone had hit him full blast with a tranquilizer injection. Macy waited for him to respond, but he didn’t.

  Macy rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “The o
nly other way out is through the kitchen,” she told him. “If anyone had been here, you would have seen him leave. But, if it makes you feel better, feel free to look.”

  She stepped aside and gestured toward the back of the house. “All I ask is that you not wake my son. He’s the innocent in all this.”

  Block didn’t know how to react to Macy’s defiant invitation. Should he accept and show her just how much he distrusted her, or should he take her word for it and wonder about it for the rest of his life?

  He knew that trust would go a long way toward bringing Macy around to his point of view, but green-eyed curiosity won. Block strode past her and glanced into the room that corresponded to Gramma’s next door. He fumbled for the light and discovered a double bed, the spread smoothed neatly over it. There was no sign that anyone had been there since Macy had made it that morning.

  How could he admit that he was wrong? Block debated what to do next and did the only thing he could think of, considering the situation. He moved quietly to the other door, Cory’s, and slowly turned the knob.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  He didn’t know what he’d expected to see, but he was certainly glad of what he did find. There, lit by the dim bulb of a cartoon-character nightlight, he could see Cory, his son, lying innocent and carefree, sprawled out on the sheets. If he hadn’t already grown to love the child, he would have done so now.

  He had never seen such a beautiful sight.

  How could he have doubted Macy? She was the mother of this small miracle that lay so innocently before him. Why would she lie?

  What purpose would it serve?

  Block watched Cory sleep until the boy stirred and rolled over. “Mom?” he mumbled sleepily, but he did not wake. Block stepped back out into the hall and quietly closed the door.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said stiffly.

  “Yes, you do,” Macy replied, her chilly tone indicating the starch in her spine that made her hold her head up high. Her hazel eyes flashed with anger and insult.