by Lisa Childs
“You’re impressive,” she assured him. “You’re a Marine and a lawman.” If Keith had become even half of the man Chance had, she’d probably lose if he took her to court for Tommy. But she hadn’t done a bad job as a single parent. Until her son had gotten fixated on finding his father, he’d been a happy, well-adjusted boy.
“So you think I can win this custody battle?” Chance asked as he stared out the window, watching the boys climb the rope ladder into the tree house.
“I think you can,” she admitted, then wondered aloud, “But do you really want to?”
His dark brows furrowed. “What are you saying? Do you think that I really don’t want my son? I just asked you to be here because I was worried that it would be awkward. But it wasn’t. It was like we’d hardly been apart—well, except for how much he’s grown.”
“I know you want him to live with you,” she said. “But do you really want to take him away from his mother?”
“This isn’t about you, Jessie.”
She sucked in a breath in reaction to the sting of his remark. “No, it’s not,” she agreed. Her hand shaking, she reached for the handle of the back door. “So Tommy and I should go…”
Chance covered her hand with his, and his chest pressed against her back. His breath stirred her hair as he said, “I’m sorry.”
She resisted the urge to lean back against him, to let his strength and warmth envelope her. No matter how attracted she was to him, they had no business being together.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he continued. “I just meant that you’re not Robyn and I’m not Keith. And you can’t compare our situations.”
“What about you?” she asked. “You’ve admitted that you did exactly that.”
“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh. “And I was wrong.”
“Yes. You were.”
“So don’t do the same to me,” he said. “Don’t judge me.”
She allowed the tension to leave her body and melted against his chest. “Okay.”
“So you’ll stay.”
“Do you want us to stay?”
He tightened his arms around her and lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. “Yes…”
CHANCE DIDN’T JUST WANT Jessie to stay. He wanted her. Period. And maybe because of that he should have let her leave. But as the evening wore on, he was happy that she and Tommy had stayed. He’d thought of everything for his son but a friend.
And even though Tommy was younger than Matthew, the boys bonded. But as he’d noticed the first time he’d met Tommy Phillips, the kid had a maturity and determination far beyond his years. He also had that funny, charming personality that made people want to be his friend. So Chance wasn’t surprised that Matthew genuinely liked Tommy.
He was surprised by how much Matthew seemed to like Jessie. He raved over her lasagna and even the salad, having two helpings of each. And when he bit into a cookie, he sighed with ecstasy, as excited as if he’d never had a cookie before in his life. Chance had to tease him about his reaction, even as he sighed in enjoyment himself when he bit into one.
Color flooded Matthew’s face. “I don’t mean to act like a pig, but Mom doesn’t let me eat like this.”
“I’m sorry,” Jessie said, her eyes widening with regret. “Aren’t you supposed to have sugar? Does your mom think it’s bad for your health?”
Matthew laughed. “No, bad for her apartment. She and Mrs. Ruiz, the housekeeper, think sweets make me too hyper and that I might break something in the house.”
“That’s why Mom makes me play outside,” Tommy said. In an apparent imitation of his mother, he pitched his voice high and squeaky and added, “No balls in the house. No skateboarding in the living room.”
“You skateboard?” Matthew asked.
Tommy nodded and then laughed. “Just not very good.”
“I can show you,” Matthew offered. “We have a skateboarding park around the corner from our apartment. I don’t get to it that much because Mrs. Ruiz won’t let me walk down there by myself. She and Mom think I’ll get shot or something. But I know some tricks.”
“So you like your bedroom?” Jessie asked, changing the subject away from the drive-bys, probably because she’d noticed Chance’s tension. Matthew not being able to play safely outside was just one of the reasons he wanted to move his son to Forest Glen.
“I love my room!” Matthew answered enthusiastically.
“Jessie painted it for you,” Chance said. “She worked really hard on it.”
Matthew glanced from him to Jessie and back, as if wondering if they were more than friends. The kid wasn’t the only one asking himself that. Chance was, too.
“Thank you,” Matthew told her.
“You’re welcome,” Jessie warmly replied. “But no one worked as hard as your father did. He wanted everything to be perfect for you.”
The tree house, the room and bunk beds—Chance had done all that for Matthew. But sitting around the table and talking with the people he cared about made everything perfect for Chance. The house he’d inherited finally felt like his home.
The apartment he’d shared with Robyn hadn’t been home for him and apparently her new place wasn’t home for Matthew. This house should be the boy’s home, and these people his family. Chance had to win the custody case. Emotion overwhelmed him, so much so that he welcomed the ringing doorbell.
Matthew groaned and rubbed his stomach. “That’s probably someone else bringing food.”
“Probably,” Jessie agreed as she stood up and began to clear the table.
“It’s nice of them,” Matthew said, as he rose from his chair and brought his dish to the sink where Jessie stood. “But it won’t be as good as yours.”
On his way to the door, Chance glanced back and noticed Jessie slide her arm around his son’s shoulders and squeeze. Matthew, obviously no fool, leaned against her. For a minute, Chance was actually jealous of his son—that his relationship with Jessie could be so uncomplicated. With a sigh of self-disgust, Chance pulled open the front door. His jaw dropped open in shock as he recognized his gray-haired visitor. “Hello, Mrs. Wilson.”
Even though he’d been living in Forest Glen awhile, he hadn’t realized how much the townspeople would support him during his son’s visit. He hadn’t expected any of the casseroles and pies that so many of his neighbors had dropped off. But this woman was the last person he’d figured would come bearing baked goods. Sure enough, though, she held a basket in her arms.
“I brought you something,” she said in her usual brusque, unfriendly manner. “Well, I brought it for you and your boy.” She glanced toward the small SUV parked behind his recently repaired police car. “And I guess Jessie Phillips’ boy, too.”
“That wasn’t necessary, Mrs. Wilson,” he assured her. “You didn’t need to bring us anything.”
“Sure I did,” she insisted. “Every kid needs a pet. And you know I have too many to take care of myself. Dang fool things getting caught up in tractors and car engines and such.”
Chance suppressed a groan because he’d probably need to save his breath if he was right about what she had in the basket hooked over her arm. “Really, it isn’t necessary,” he said again.
“Well, if you decide not to keep it, you can drop it off at the animal shelter,” she said, staring at the basket in confusion. “I don’t know why someone dropped this thing off at my house. It’s not like I don’t have more than enough furry critters.”
“That’s probably why animals are dropped at your house,” he pointed out. “People know how much you love them—too much to part with any of them.” He hoped. He’d already made more than his share of trips to the doctor’s office.
“I have no problem parting with this kind of critter,” she insisted. “And your boy will love it.”
“He might have the same allergies I have,” Chance warned her. If he was any kind of father, he’d know if his son had allergies and to what. When Jessie had asked Mat
thew about sugar, he’d had no clue if his son followed a restricted diet. Robyn wouldn’t even talk to him.
“I think this is one of those hypoallergenic, nonshedding kind,” Mrs. Wilson assured him as she pulled the furry critter from her basket. The ball of curly yellow fur whined and yipped and licked her fingers.
Chance studied her face, wondering how she knew so much about a stray—a dog, no less—that had been dropped on her property. Had she bought the puppy from a pet store just for his son?
“A puppy!” the boys yelled as they headed down the hall from the kitchen. Both of them ran, skidding in their socks, to the foyer. Barking with excitement, the tiny dog squirmed free of the old woman’s grasp and jumped onto the kids who knelt on the hardwood floor to play with him.
“I think they like it,” Mrs. Wilson said with a smile of satisfaction and pleasure. She dropped the basket onto the porch. “There’s food and a leash and some other stuff in there.” The dog was definitely no stray; she had bought it for him.
“Can we keep it?” Matthew asked, his eyes so round with hopefulness that Chance couldn’t say no.
He nodded his acceptance. He couldn’t disappoint his son or the woman who’d gone to so much trouble to buy him the perfect pet.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Matthew sincerely told Mrs. Wilson, while Tommy, apparently too overwhelmed for words, threw his arms around her and hugged tight.
The old lady stumbled back a step with shock. Then her swollen fingers patted the boy’s red head. “You’re welcome, honey.”
Chance stumbled as his son threw his arms around his waist. “Thanks, Dad. Everything is perfect.”
Over his son’s head, he met Jessie’s gaze as she joined all of them in the foyer. She understood and shared the moment of celebration with him, but he also noticed the concern in her gaze. She was as worried as he was that this might be the only visit he had with his son.
“SO MY COOKIES have been replaced,” Jessie said as she gazed over Chance’s makeshift gate into the utility room, where he’d imprisoned the whining labradoodle puppy.
“They named him Cookie,” Chance reminded her, leaning over her shoulder to stare down at the puppy.
She tilted her head to gaze back at him, her breath stalling as she found his face very close—nearly close enough to kiss. “Are you sure you’ve done the right thing?”
“They’ll be fine out there in the tree house,” he assured her. “It’s warm tonight, and I made sure the trapdoor was closed. No one’s going to fall out of the tree.”
“I wasn’t talking about the boys,” she said. But she wasn’t totally convinced that she should have agreed to let them spend the night ten feet in the air. “I meant with the puppy.”
His sigh stirred her hair and raised goose bumps along her skin. “After that allergic reaction, I’m not crazy about things with fur. But you saw how excited the boys got.”
“How hard will it be for Matthew to leave Cookie here when he has to go home?” she asked.
Chance stepped away from her. “I hope it’s me he’s going to miss more than the dog.”
“I’m sure he will miss you,” Jessie said. “But Robyn might think that getting him a dog wasn’t playing fair.”
Would Keith play games with her when he found out about Tommy? Would he compete with her to be the better, more fun parent? Not that Chance had gone out and purchased the puppy; she suspected Mrs. Wilson had done that. No one gave away a specialty-bred dog unless there was a sweet, generous soul hidden beneath her gruff exterior. But Chance had built the tree house and bought all the video games and sporting equipment his son and hers had been playing with all night.
“Not at all,” Chance said. “I didn’t plan on giving him that puppy.”
“I know,” she said. “I know. I’m sorry…”
He pushed a hand through his hair, disheveling the dark strands. “This is so hard,” he said, as he turned away from her. “Too hard. Seeing my son again, being with him…” His voice cracked with emotion. “And knowing that he’s only here for a few more days…and that he might not be able to come back ever again.”
Jessie pressed herself against his stiff back and wrapped her arms around him. “You’ll see him again. You’ll have a relationship with your son.”
He pulled her arms away then turned around and dragged her tight against him. “That’s not the only relationship I want right now.”
She tipped up her face but held her mouth back from touching his. “I thought you considered this—that you considered us—a mistake.”
“I wanted to focus on Matthew.”
“I know—that’s why I tried to stay away,” she reminded him. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
“But you didn’t have to be here to intrude. I kept thinking about you, missing you, wanting you…” He kissed her now with all the desire they’d been fighting for each other.
But just kissing wasn’t going to be enough this time. For either of them. Chance swung her up in his arms while Jessie clung to him. She pulled her mouth from his to murmur, “What about the boys?”
“We’ll hear them come in,” he promised.
“How?”
He glanced back toward the dog. “My new alarm system courtesy of Mrs. Wilson.”
She smiled even as her heart pounded frantically in anticipation as he carried her through the foyer. He started up the staircase, and with each step he climbed, that anticipation intensified and a pressure built inside her. Then he carried her through the open door of the room she’d only glanced inside when she’d been painting Matthew’s.
She’d wanted to paint this room, too, to add color to the plain white walls and black sheets. But she’d refrained from offering, figuring she had no business in Chance Drayton’s bedroom.
And she probably still had no business being here. He dropped his arm from beneath her legs, and she slid down the hard length of his body. He groaned and pulled her close again—so close that nothing but their clothes separated their bodies.
And then not even clothes, as they frantically lowered zippers and undid buttons. Chance took his time with her, kissing every inch of skin he exposed, until Jessie trembled with desire for him. She couldn’t remember ever wanting any man as desperately as she wanted Chance.
“Please,” she murmured when his lips skimmed from her neck, over her collarbone to the curve of her breast. “Chance…”
Then his mouth closed around her nipple and he gently tugged at the sensitive point. She tunneled her fingers into his soft hair, holding him against her. But she had to touch more than his hair. So she skimmed her hands down the broad expanse of his back and over his lean hips.
He lifted his head from her breast and carried her to the bed, laying her on it. But he didn’t stop kissing her, his lips clinging to hers, tongue sliding over tongue and breath mingling with moans. His hands slid over her, following every curve and dip, until his fingers moved through her curls and into the very heat and essence of her desire.
She arched her hips, wanting more. Needing more. But he pulled back. A drawer opened, foil rustled, and he moved over her. His mouth covered her lips again, then skimmed across her cheek to her ear.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded and raked her nails down his back, pulling him closer.
“But I’m not sure I can offer you more than tonight,” he warned her. “I don’t know what the future holds for either of us.”
“I know,” she said. If he’d made promises or declarations of love like Keith had, she wouldn’t have trusted him enough to give herself to him. “And I appreciate your honesty.” Except that it forced her to be honest with herself, to admit that she was falling for him despite that uncertain future.
“I appreciate you,” he said, “everything about you. Your beauty. Your generosity. Your fierce protectiveness.”
Of Tommy. If she was protecting herself, she would have left after the boys had gone up to the tree house. She shouldn’t have stayed a
lone with him, should never have allowed him to carry her to his bed.
But she wanted him too much to deny either of them. “I need you,” she said. “I want you.” She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist.
He groaned, as if his control was slipping, but carefully joined their bodies. Jessie didn’t want gentleness. She wanted passion. She kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth as he thrust inside her body.
Lifting her hips, she met his every thrust—fighting to release the pressure building inside her. His mouth left her lips, and he contorted his body until he could reach her breasts. As he tugged at a nipple, the pressure broke. With a keening moan, she came.
Then he shuddered and groaned and collapsed on top of her. But that gentleness returned and he rolled his weight off her and clutched her to his side. His fingers trembled slightly as he stroked her shoulder. “That was…phenomenal.”
And stupid. But she had no regrets…except that they couldn’t spend the night making love. The boys were bound to get cold or have to use the bathroom, and they’d be back inside.
“I can’t stay in your bed,” she said.
He uttered a heavy sigh of regret. “I know. We don’t want to confuse the boys.”
It wasn’t just the boys she was worried about, though. She had confused herself with all this desire, with all these feelings. But she couldn’t keep doing what she wanted. She had to focus on what her son needed.
“The boys need to come first,” she reminded them both. “I have to give Tommy what he wants.”
Chance nodded, his chin bumping lightly against her forehead.
“I have to give him his father. I need you to find him.”
His fingers stopped tracing the random pattern on her bare skin and stilled. “I have.”
Chapter Eleven
With every mile he drew closer to the city, another knot formed in Chance’s stomach, so that when he finally found a parking spot on the busy street outside Robyn’s building, he felt cramped with dread. And with every mile Matthew had become more withdrawn, so that now he sat, sullen and silent, in the passenger seat.