Danny hesitated, caught between a feeling that he was being cheated out of a whole hour of the day and the exhaustion tugging at him.
“You’re a regular night owl,” Gage said. “We’d better get you to bed before you turn into a pumpkin.” He reached down and swung the boy up into his arms. “If you turn into a pumpkin, we’ll have to put a candle in your mouth and set you on the porch for Halloween.”
“People don’t turn into punkins,” Danny protested, but he put his arms around Gage’s neck and let his head drop onto his shoulder.
“Even if you did, Halloween is so far off, you’d probably rot before then,” Gage told him as he carried him out of the living room.
“Then Mom’d throw me on the compost pile.” Danny’s voice was slurred with sleep.
“She probably would.” Gage nudged open Danny’s bedroom door and carried him inside to lay him on the bed. He stepped back to allow Kelsey to sit on the edge of the bed and start undressing Danny, who was already half-asleep.
“Good night, buddy.”
“‘Night, Uncle Gage.”
Gage watched Kelsey for a moment. All her attention seemed to be on Danny, but he didn’t doubt that she knew exactly where he was. They’d been attuned to each other all day, like it or not. And it was pretty clear she didn’t like it, he thought, noticing that her hands were not quite steady.
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” he told her.
She’d been in the process of slipping Danny’s shoes off. At his words, she froze, reminding him of a doe caught in the glare of headlights. He waited for her to tell him that she was tired, that she was going to go straight to bed.
“Make it decaf,” she said quietly as she slid Danny’s sneaker off and set it on the floor beside the bed.
* * *
“Decaf,” he said, setting her cup on the kitchen table a little while later. “Is he settled in?”
“Already out like a light.” Kelsey wrapped her hands around the cup as if craving the warmth of it against her skin.
“Sounds like he had a good time with your parents,” Gage said. He sank into a chair across from her, pretending not to see the uneasy glance she slanted him.
“From what my mom said when I talked to her, he ran them ragged.”
“And they loved every minute of it.”
“Adored it.” One corner of her mouth kicked up in a half smile, the closest he’d been to getting a smile out of her all day. “It’s good to have him home,” she said.
“Yeah. I was starting to get bored with all that peace and quiet,” Gage said dryly.
Kelsey’s smile was even more faint this time. She moved her cup in tiny circles on the tabletop. “He loves you very much,” she said, seeming to speak as much to herself as to him.
Gage said nothing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where she was going with this, but he’d let her finish. Maybe she’d surprise him.
“He’s lost so much,” she murmured, her eyes on the aimless movement of her cup.
He let the silence stretch until it became awkward. But what the hell hadn’t been awkward between them today? She’d been jumpy as hell every time he got within fifty feet of her. Not that he’d been much better. Damn, how could things have changed so much in less than twenty-four hours?
“I take it you’re worried that the fact you spent last night in my bed might affect my relationship with Danny,” he said finally.
“He’s lost too much already.”
“Why should the fact that you and I are lovers mean that he’ll lose me?” He saw her flinch at the deliberate intimacy of his tone. Something inside him tightened into a knot.
“We aren’t—”
“Lovers?” he finished when she couldn’t seem to get the word out. “I’d have to argue that one.”
“Last night...what we did...” She stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts. “We didn’t think anything through last night.”
He couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d been too wrapped up in the taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, to be thinking about anything else. He wished he could be sure Kelsey had felt the same. But he kept hearing her saying that she’d been thinking about Rick.
“But you’ve thought things through now?” he asked.
“I’ve tried to.”
“And I take it you’ve come to some conclusion.” Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. He could make this easier for her, he thought, but he wasn’t in a particularly generous mood at the moment.
“I...think we should forget last night ever happened.” Kelsey almost slurred the words together in her rush to get them said.
It was exactly what he’d been expecting, but Gage felt the knot in his gut cinch just a little tighter. She’d been building up to this all day. He’d seen it in the way she avoided meeting his eyes, in the fine tension that radiated from her whenever he got too close. It was as if she’d posted psychic No Trespassing signs.
Forget about last night? Pretend he’d never held her, never been inside her, never felt her body shudder under his? Easier to forget his own name.
“Why?” Stupid question, he thought immediately. He knew why. It was because she still loved Rick, still felt married to him. Not that she’d say as much.
“I think it’s best,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she lifted her gaze from the table and met his eyes. “I don’t want things to change between us, Gage.”
Too late. Things already had changed. He wasn’t sitting across the table from a woman who was his friend. He was sitting across the table from a woman he’d made love to, a woman he wanted to make love to again.
But he didn’t say that to her. He couldn’t. Not when she was looking at him like that, her eyes pleading with him to agree with her, to pretend that everything could just go on the way it had been.
“I’m not sure it’s that easy,” he said slowly. “You can’t just wave a wand and make it go away.”
“We can try. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You keep talking about people losing me,” he snapped. He shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “I’m starting to feel like a misplaced shovel!” He took a half turn away and then spun back to pin her to her seat with angry blue eyes. “What do you think is going to happen? Do you think that now that we’ve slept together, I’m going to walk out on you and Danny? That I’ve been living here all this time as part of some elaborate plot to get you into my bed?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why the hell do you keep acting like that’s what I’m going to do? My God, Kelsey, don’t you know me better than that?” He thrust his fingers through his hair, feeling the anger drain away, leaving behind a vast emptiness.
“I know you’d never walk away as long as Danny or I needed you,” she said quietly. “But I can’t help but worry about the way this could affect our relationship. You’ve been such a good friend to us, and I...don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to change that friendship.”
It’s already changed. But he kept silent. If she didn’t see that herself, then maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe it hadn’t changed. Maybe last night had been nothing more than a bizarre detour in their lives. If she could spend the night in his bed and then look at him with those big gray eyes and tell him she didn’t want anything to change...
Gage turned away from her and stared out the window. From here he could see one corner of the greenhouse. He stared at the curved line of the roof and wondered how the hell he was supposed to pretend he didn’t remember what it was like to make love to Kelsey.
I was thinking of Rick.
“So you want to just pretend last night never happened?”
When Kelsey hesitated, he turned to look at her, wondering if she was finally starting to see how crazy this whole idea was.
“There’s more than just the two of us to think of,” she said at last. “I have to think about Danny. He has
to come first.”
“And you think our being lovers is going to damage his psyche?” He asked the question without sarcasm, but Kelsey flushed anyway.
“You’re very important to him. I don’t want what happened between us to get in the way of your relationship with him. You’re the closest thing to a father that he has, Gage.”
Gage felt as if she’d just punched him in the gut. Father? Not him. Not ever. That was one thing that hadn’t changed in the past twenty-four hours.
“He knows who his father was,” he protested.
“Rick isn’t much more than just a name to him,” Kelsey said sadly. “He says he remembers him but what he remembers is the stories we’ve told him about his father. You’re the one who taught him to throw a ball.”
“I’m hardly ever here.” Gage felt as if he was in the middle of a mine field without a map. “He thinks of me as his uncle, not as his father.”
“I didn’t say he thought you were actually his father. I said he thinks of you as if you were his father. I don’t want to risk my friendship with you but I won’t risk what you have with Danny. He needs you too much. If you and I got involved and things didn’t work out...” She let a shrug finish the sentence. “Danny’s already lost too much.”
Gage could have argued. He could have pointed out she was taking a pessimistic view of things, that there was no reason to assume that their relationship wouldn’t work out or that they couldn’t remain friends even if it didn’t. There were a lot of things he could have said, but he didn’t say any of them. Because of one simple, two-syllable word.
Father.
And he’d suddenly seen what she’d been trying to tell him all along. If they took their relationship to what seemed like the next obvious step, Danny might start to see him not just as an almost-father but as the genuine article, and that would not be a good idea.
He reached for his coffee cup, wrapping both hands around it, though there was little heat left in it. The thought of being the boy’s godfather had scared him half to death, but he’d adjusted to the idea and even come to like it. Then Rick had died, and he’d found the responsibility considerably more hands-on than anyone had anticipated. And he’d done all right there, too. He loved Danny. Hell, who wouldn’t love the kid? But that didn’t make him a father. He’d known years ago that he had no business taking on that particular responsibility.
No, he was a pretty fair adoptive uncle but he couldn’t let it go any further, not when he knew better than anyone just how badly he might fail the boy. The way he’d failed Shannon all those years ago.
Kelsey watched his face and wondered what he was thinking to bring such a bleak expression to his eyes. If she’d had any vague thought that Gage might embrace the idea of himself as Danny’s father, it was gone now. There’d been something approaching revulsion in his eyes before he looked away.
“I wouldn’t hurt Danny—or you—for the world,” he said finally.
“I know that.”
There was another long silence, and she wondered if it was only her imagination that made it seem to echo with loneliness.
“So we just pretend last night never happened?” he said slowly
“I think it might be best.”
“Best. Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He lifted his cup and downed the lukewarm coffee. When he lowered it, his eyes met hers across the table. “Wouldn’t want to spoil a beautiful friendship,” he said, his mouth twisting in a rueful smile.
“No.” But Kelsey was suddenly less sure of her decision. What if— She shook her head. She couldn’t take that chance.
* * *
Gage had never in his life been so grateful to see the end of his vacation. The past two weeks had been close enough to hell that he wouldn’t have been surprised if his hair smelled of sulfur. He had no one to blame but himself, he thought as he stuffed the last of his clothes into his duffel bag. He’d known it would never work, known he couldn’t just forget what had happened. He was lousy at playing pretend.
He jerked the zipper on the duffel closed and glanced around the room to see if he’d missed anything. He’d always liked this room. It had been Kelsey’s idea to convert the unused side porch into a bedroom for him. He’d felt at home here, as much at home as he was anywhere. But for the past two weeks, every time he stepped into the room, he saw Kelsey. He saw her standing by the bed, her robe pooled at her feet, her slender body trembling with urgency as he touched her. He saw her lying across the bed, the spill of her gold hair across the pillow, her gray eyes all smoky with hunger.
“Dammit!” The whispered curse held a savagery that reflected his extreme frustration. One night. One lousy night and everything was changed. His life here had been stripped bare, exposed as nothing but a thin facade. He’d spent the past four years playing house, calling this place home, pretending to be a family man. He’d borrowed a piece of his best friend’s life. Rick’s son, Rick’s house. Rick’s wife.
“Dammit.” But the word held more resignation than anger. He scooped the duffel up off the bed and turned toward the door. It was four in the morning. Cole would be here any minute to drive him to the airport—an act above and beyond the call of brotherly duty, he’d pointed out.
Gage had said his goodbyes to Danny the night before. The boy hadn’t cried, but his arms had clung a little longer than usual when Gage hugged him good-night. He’d lingered beside Danny’s bed for a moment, aware that six months was practically a lifetime to a child. He was suddenly conscious of how much Danny would grow between now and the time he came home again, of how much he was going to miss seeing.
He’d turned away, angry at himself for thinking that way, angry with Kelsey for putting that word in his head. Father. Just by saying it, she’d changed things, as if the fact that they’d slept together hadn’t changed them enough already.
Gage glanced at Danny’s door as he walked down the hall but he resisted the urge to go inside. Kelsey usually got up to see him off. Hopefully she’d forego that ritual this morning. He was in no mood for long goodbyes. The sooner he was on his way, the better.
He swallowed a curse when he saw the kitchen light on and smelled the rich fragrance of coffee. He dropped his duffel in the entryway and walked slowly toward the kitchen. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, any more than he’d known what to say to her for the past two weeks.
He was racking his brain for some casual tidbit of conversation when he heard the low rumble of Cole’s voice. The relief he felt undoubtedly marked him as a coward, but that didn’t stop him from savoring it.
“I was going to throw ice water on your bed to wake you, but Kelsey wouldn’t let me,” Cole said by way of greeting.
“I’d hate to have to delay getting back to work to visit you in the hospital.” Gage murmured his thanks to Kelsey when she handed him a cup of coffee.
“You don’t scare me. Unless things have changed since we were kids, you’re barely functional at this hour.”
Unbidden, unwelcome, Gage’s thoughts flashed to waking before dawn and making slow, thorough love to Kelsey. Without conscious thought, he looked at her, something he’d done his best to avoid lately. Their eyes met, clear blue tangling with smoky gray. He saw the color come up in her cheeks, saw the memory in her eyes and knew he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to put that night from his mind.
Neither of them noticed Cole’s dark eyes going from one to the other, noting the tension between them. His brows rose a little, and he looked away.
“I’m going to head out to the truck. Thanks for the coffee, Kelsey.”
He was gone before either of them could muster a protest. He left behind a silence so profound that the quiet click of the front door closing behind him sounded like a rifle shot.
“I think he was giving us a chance to say goodbye in private,” Gage said, contemplating the possibility of making Cole run alongside his own truck all the way to L.A.
“That’s silly.” Kelsey picked up a sponge
and busied herself with wiping an invisible spot off the counter. “Why would he think we needed privacy to say goodbye?”
“I don’t know.” Gage gulped down the contents of his cup, welcoming the pain as the hot liquid scorched his throat. “Doesn’t seem necessary when we’re just good friends.”
He saw Kelsey flinch at the bitter emphasis he put on the last three words and immediately regretted his tone. It wasn’t as if this mess was her fault. She couldn’t help it that she still loved Rick, couldn’t change the fact that he’d be damned poor father-material even if she tried.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he set his cup down on the table. “You know how to get hold of me if you need me.”
“Yes.”
They had the same conversation every time he left. She usually teased him about his insistence that she have every number he could think to give her. This morning there was not even a smile between them.
“I won’t be back until sometime around the end of the year.” He stared at her bent head, aware of an aching emptiness in his gut.
“Be careful,” she said just as she always did. She lifted her gaze to his face, and Gage thought she looked like an angel, standing there in her plain white robe, with the light catching in her golden hair and her eyes solemn and a little uncertain.
Time apart was the best thing, he told himself. Time to forget, time to put things back on an even keel. After all, what was one night stacked up against all the years they’d known each other? Even if it had been the most incredible night he’d ever spent, even if the scent of her, the taste of her, was imprinted on his very soul. Six months was a long time. When he came home, everything would be back to normal.
“Ah, hell.”
One long stride covered the distance between them, and he wrapped one hand around the back of Kelsey’s neck. She gasped, her hand coming up to press against his chest. But the small protest, if that was what she’d intended, ended the moment his mouth closed over hers. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as he slowly, thoroughly ravaged her mouth.
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