“Oh, honey. Those are Jason’s.” She began gathering the cards. “You’re not supposed to touch—”
A folded piece of paper caught her eye.
A piece of paper she recognized because she had a duplicate of it. She couldn’t have made a mistake. The sheet was yellowed with age and folded into a small rectangle, but on one corner, she saw part of a headline from Cowboy Creek’s local paper, an article on a new store that had opened in town three years ago.
And on the back...
She unfolded the paper. Afraid her trembling hands might accidentally tear the well-creased edges, she lay the paper in her lap. Open, it revealed the local birth announcements from the day her son was born. She had a copy of one of those announcements, carefully cut from the newspaper, pasted into his baby book.
Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She sat frozen, unable even to wipe away the tears, stunned at the knowledge Jason must have carried this announcement in his wallet for all these years.
And yet he had never come back to see Scott, never sent a birthday card or a Christmas gift. Never acknowledged he had a son—except for those envelopes that had come with nothing but checks inside. After ripping up the first couple of checks, she had returned the later envelopes unopened.
And now he wanted to give her child support. More money that would come with no emotional attachment and no commitments.
How could that unfeeling man be the same one who cared enough to carry her son’s birth announcement in his wallet?
* * *
JASON TUCKED THE blanket around Scott and set the stuffed panda and teddy bears on either side of him. He turned on the night-light on the small dresser beside the crib. Jill had curled up with one fist under her chin. Just like her mama. Smiling, he turned back to Scott.
“’Night,” the boy mumbled in the middle of a yawn.
“’Night...” he echoed.
Good night, son, he wanted to say instead.
Good night, Daddy, he wanted to hear Scott say in return.
It was too soon for that. Layne wasn’t ready yet to accept child support without giving him an argument, let alone allow him to tell his son the truth.
But maybe she was ready for something else. Judging by her reaction to his kiss, she wouldn’t say no to another one. If not for Scott running into the living room and interrupting, at that point, she might not have said no to anything.
At the moment, he’d settle for another kiss. For a step in the right direction.
Eagerly, he headed back to the living room.
Layne had moved to the couch. She sat with her arms around her upraised knees, the afghan pulled across her, looking less like a woman who wanted to be kissed than any he’d ever seen.
He’d have to make a detour and hope that was the right way, too.
He took the seat beside her. “Need a tuck? I’m getting pretty good at them, if I do say so myself.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“When I left the room, Scott was about ready to nod out. Jill curled into sleep position the minute I set her in the crib.” He lay his hand on her knee and plucked at the afghan. “We know where she gets that from.”
“It’s a habit of mine,” she agreed.
“Scott...” He hesitated. No, she wasn’t ready—and truthfully, he wasn’t ready, either—to approach the subject of telling their son he was his daddy. They’d get to that in time. But for now, they had other things to talk about. Finally, he said, “I can see where Scott takes after you, too. He loves his books, and Rhea says he loves the lessons she teaches.”
“He does. And I try to reinforce the basics he’s learning there.”
“That’s my Layne,” he said, keeping it light. “Looks like you’ve had better luck with him than you ever had with me.”
“He pays attention,” she said just as lightly, but her smile seemed strained.
“It’s more than reinforcement,” he continued. “Rhea told me he’s learning a lot here at home, too. He knows his alphabet, which is more than she could say about the other kids his age.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed with pride.
He wanted to say how proud he was of Scott, too, but knew better than to attempt it. “I bet you’ll have one of those ‘my kid’s an A-plus student’ bumper stickers on your car the minute he gets into grade school.”
“I probably will.”
“That’s good to hear.” Again, he hesitated, then went on. “Does he have any of my habits?”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. He counted off the seconds, knowing she was deliberately making him wait. “Well, he’s obstinate when he wants something and cranky when he doesn’t get his way.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing.” But a smile tugged at her lips. “He’s very focused when he wants to be. And he’s outgoing. You know he gets that more from you than me.”
“He favors me, too.” He almost subconsciously straightened his shoulders as another wave of pride filled him. “When I look at him, I see the kid I used to be.”
“So do I,” she said softly.
“That’s good to hear, too.” He edged closer, leaning against her upright knees. “Now, where were we before I went to read Scott his bedtime story? I seem to remember...”
She remembered, too. Her eyes drifted closed in a signal he understood well—anticipation, acceptance, and permission, all rolled into one. He reached up and slid his hand to the back of her neck. In a second, he was where he wanted to be, with his mouth on hers and his fingers threading through her hair and her hands on his shoulders tugging him closer to her.
But another second later, she pulled back just as she had done when Scott had run into the living room.
“No.” She pushed the afghan aside and rose from the couch, moved to perch on the arm of the chair, and crossed her arms. “I can’t do this, Jason. I can’t...go back there again.”
“Who says we’re going back anywhere? We’re here now.”
“And falling right back into the way we used to be. A way that’s only going to create more problems. That’s all it ever did.”
“What about the good times? The fun times? The reason we got married in the first place? Don’t try to tell me it was just because we liked making out and wanted to go the extra mile.”
She said nothing.
He frowned. “You know it was always more than that. Don’t you?” Her shrug hit him like a fist to the gut. “Layne.”
“All right, yes, it was more than that. But outside of bed, we had a lot of problems. I had a lot of problems, only I didn’t know it until now. I’m a failure with relationships, Jason. And I don’t think I even know what love is.”
“That’s a load of bull.” He went to her and took her hands. “Sweetheart, you are way too hard on yourself. I’ve been around here for a week now, and I see how you are with the kids. How much you care about them. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. And if you could see yourself the way I do, you’d never call yourself a failure again. At anything.”
* * *
“TIME TO GO, SCOTT,” Jason said.
Holding Jill, Layne stood near the doorway in Rhea’s playroom and watched as he rumpled her son’s hair. When Scott slipped into his jacket, Jason waited, smiling down at him, already knowing Scott wanted to do up his buttons himself.
She cradled Jill against her and couldn’t help but think of what Jason had said last night. Every time she recalled his words of support, his warm hands gently squeezing hers, the look in his eyes... Every time she thought of any of those, she melted a little more inside.
At the same time, she cautioned herself to keep from getting carried away. She couldn’t fall for the boy who had dumped her and abandoned her son. Yet in spite of all the
warnings, it was too late. She had done just that—given him her heart again.
But was he the same Jason who had once broken that heart?
Day by day, he grew closer to Scott and seemed even more comfortable around Jill. He had become more and more like the loving, caring father she had always thought he would be. Still, she couldn’t set aside her biggest fear. Once he left, would he forget all about the kids the way he’d forgotten about her?
Scott waved goodbye to Rhea and took Jason’s hand.
As they walked to the truck, Scott said, “Go home now, Jason. Go color.”
“No, not today. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Layne stared at him, wondering what he had in mind. A trip to the store for more coloring books or a bigger box of crayons? Another toy for the baby?
“What, Jason? What?” Scott asked.
“You’re having supper with Shay and Mo tonight.”
Scott clapped his hands. “I love Grandma Mo and I love Shay. And I love the chickens.”
She swallowed hard. Though she was burning up inside, her lips felt frozen. Somehow, she managed a smile for her son. Once in a while when Shay babysat the kids, rather than stay in their apartment, she would take them home to visit with her grandmother. Scott always enjoyed the trips to their small farm. But this wonderful surprise for her son only set off more warnings signals inside her.
Why would Jason feel he could take it upon himself to set up a visit?
Smiling, he held the passenger door for her. Then, without a word, he went around the truck to Scott, who was already standing by the driver’s side, waiting for Jason to buckle him into his car seat.
When they pulled away from Miss Rhea’s house, Layne glanced at Jason. He was focused on his driving and, judging by his slight smile, aware of her scrutiny and deliberately avoiding looking back at her. Keeping her in suspense as to what the rest of his surprise was about. She wondered what he had in mind for her—because it couldn’t be a trip to the L-G Store.
“How did you arrange all this?” she asked as casually as she could.
“I talked to Shay while you were at work.”
“And why did you arrange all this?”
“It’s called ‘Mama’s Night Off.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve got the night to yourself. No kids. No cooking. No cares.”
She shook her head. “Well, you’ve got that partly right, anyhow. But you’ve forgotten about Jill. I’ll need to nurse her before too long.”
“Jill’s going with Scott. But I’ve got that covered. Miss Rhea said the baby didn’t take her extra bottle today. We can drop it off at Shay’s along with the kids.”
“You didn’t arrange that, too?” she asked sharply.
He shot a glance at her. “Thanks. Do you really think I’d conspire to keep Jill from getting her milk?”
“I’m sorry.” She flushed. She had been so focused on finding out what he was up to, she hadn’t watched how she worded the question. “I just meant you might have asked Rhea to space out the bottle feedings a little more.”
“Well, I didn’t. And Jill doesn’t always take her extra bottle.”
His confident knowledge of her daughter’s habits made her breath catch.
“Besides,” he went on, “if there hadn’t been a bottle left, I’d have adjusted my plans to let you get a feeding in.”
“Plans? I knew it. You do have more in mind than just giving me a night off.” Why did the thought both irritate and excite her?
“Oh, I’ve got big plans for you tonight, sweetheart. When we get home, I’m running you a nice warm bath and then letting you slip into something comfortable...”
“Jason.”
“I was thinking of your fuzzy blue robe. And while you’re unwinding, I’m heading over to SugarPie’s to pick up supper for us and then to the Big Dipper to grab a pint of your favorite ice cream.”
“Oh, really? And what’s the point of all this? Because if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking—” She stopped, too tongue-tied and tense—and maybe too turned-on—to keep track of where she was headed with all those thoughts.
She was as determined as ever to protect her kids. Yet she seemed to have lost her ability to protect herself. Despite everything, she wanted this night with Jason. She wanted playfulness and understanding and kisses and more.
He braked to a stop at the next intersection and turned to smile at her. “It’s like I said yesterday, sweetheart. You’re too tough on yourself. About everything. You need a break, and since I know you won’t take one on your own, I’m stepping in to take charge.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Who knew all you’d need to seduce a woman was a pint of chocolate-marshmallow swirl.”
“Ha.” With the ice-cream spoon halfway to her mouth, Layne paused to roll her eyes at Jason, who sat at the opposite end of the couch. “You’re not seducing me, you’re helping me satisfy a craving.”
“Great. Then maybe when you’re done eating, you can help satisfy one of mine.”
Again, she froze with the spoon halfway to her mouth. He had turned her innocent comment into a trigger for memories that left her breathless. She struggled for something to say, something to keep the moment light. “You’re pregnant?” she managed finally. At the look of confusion on his face, she laughed. “Just kidding. I only meant, this is what I craved when I was carrying Jill.”
“With dill pickles? Isn’t that what all pregnant women are supposed to want? Pickles and ice cream?”
She shook her head. “Not me. The ice cream was good enough. Well...good anyway. But I just couldn’t get enough of it.” She tugged on the belt of her freshly washed robe, a silent reminder not to overdo it tonight.
He watched her movement but didn’t comment on it. She felt too warm in the robe, but the last thing she could do was take it off in front of him. She was overly warm from her bath...or maybe from the way he sat looking at her, as if he couldn’t get enough.
All during her bath, she had considered everything that had happened this week. She had tried to make herself believe she and Jason could work things out. She told herself he had arranged this Mama’s Night Off—this Date Night?—especially for her. She kept reminding herself he was still here.
“What did you want when you were pregnant with Scott?” he asked.
“Potato chips and grape jelly.” His eyes widened in horror. She laughed again—and then realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much in one night. “Don’t knock the combination till you’ve tried it.”
“No, thanks. But I wouldn’t say no to a taste of that ice cream.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with plain old vanilla.” She waggled the carton, giving him permission to take a spoonful.
He moved closer. “I wasn’t thinking of taking it from the container.” His gaze drifted to her mouth.
Again, she froze. Not with a spoon in her hand this time, but from the thought running through her head. The thought of the kiss he so obviously wanted. The one she couldn’t help wanting, too. It would be crazy to give in, and still... Nervously, she licked her lip. He seemed to take that as another sign of permission.
He leaned down, barely brushing her mouth with his, then paused, teasing her into a moan of pure frustration.
“Jason.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you wanted a taste.”
“I did.”
“Did?” She stared up at him.
He laughed. “Just wasn’t sure how much you wanted a taste of plain old vanilla.”
“Try me.”
“That’s the sweetest offer I’ve had all night.”
He touched her mouth with his again. This time he li
ngered, and all her frustration went away. Yet his teasing never stopped. He kissed her once, a kiss sweeter than her offer, sweeter even than their ice cream. He kissed a trail from her mouth to her chin to her jawline. Then he brushed aside her robe to expose that one special spot he knew at the base of her throat.
Yes, he knew that spot. And so much more about her.
They had shared so much—a marriage, a bed, a child.
She shivered, a small tremble sparked by a longing for what they had once had together and had let slip away.
He ran one hand down the lapel of her robe, slid the other along her bare thigh. This time, she shivered in anticipation. The glow of the lamp turned his light brown eyes into the soft, dark gold of melting caramel. It highlighted his face, showing her the grown-up version of the boy she had always loved.
“I’ve wanted to see you out of this thing from the minute I saw you in it.” He tugged on the belt of her robe.
She stiffened. His hand stilled. With a little laugh, she shook her head. “Don’t mind me.” Blushing, she admitted, “That tug brought back memories. When I carried Jill, I craved ice cream constantly. Pulling my belt was my reminder not to go too crazy. A warning to stop.”
He stared down at the belt. After a long moment, he tucked the front of her robe into place and smoothed the lapels again. Then he retreated to the opposite end of the couch.
She frowned. “Jason...? What...exactly...just happened here?”
“I got the memo.”
She had lost all desire to laugh. Lost all desire for anything. Now she was the one confused. “What memo?”
“A warning to stop.”
She flushed, too hot in her robe again. Too embarrassed by what she had anticipated, what she had waited for and wanted. Too hurt by his rejection. But she had to let him know he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I didn’t mean it as a warning for you.”
“Didn’t say you had. I sent the memo to myself. Look, Layne, I think—” He took a deep breath. “Maybe we need a break. It would be good for...for us both. There’s a rodeo in Fort Worth this weekend. Not more than seven or eight hours from here. I can be there and home in a day.”
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