Then Comes Baby

by Helen Brenna

  He pulled back and dropped his hands to his side. “That’s what you want from me, isn’t it?”

  She swallowed.

  “Well, I’m not available.”

  “You are, without a doubt, the most infuriating man I know.”

  “Well, you know what you can do about that.”

  “Of all the…” Clenching her teeth, she spun around and ran down the steps and across the yard.

  “Don’t bother coming back,” he called after her. “I am not the broken man you think I am!”

  DON’T COME BACK HERE. Don’t ever come back.

  Jamis watched her stalk away, feeling intense sensations of both relief and regret.

  A part of him hadn’t wanted to be so damned right about her. A part of him had wanted to be no more than a simple, uncomplicated summer diversion for her. So what? Who could blame either one of them? Neither of them was wet behind the ears. They both understood the consequences to that kind of impulsive behavior. There was nothing wrong with no-strings-attached sex.

  But he had been right. Jamis was no more than a summer project for her, like her camp. She planned to fix him and move on, get what she needed from him—the satisfaction she took from helping another human being, or whatever else she got out of it—and then disappear from his life. Just like Katherine.

  Jamis closed his eyes. He could taste Natalie, the wine on her tongue, the heat of her mouth. On his lips. He could feel her. On his hands. This was one raging hard-on he wouldn’t be willing away all that easily.

  Gulping down what was left of the wine in his glass, he immediately filled it again. You’re an idiot. He’d thought he’d scare her away, make her keep her distance and all he’d accomplished was heightening the tension between them.

  She was angry at him? Thought he was out of line? He shook his head and laughed. Before the summer was over he had a sick feeling that woman was going to bring him to his knees.

  At the sound of the knock, Bradley opened his hotel-room door and in sauntered that woman from the bar. Her lusty gaze settled on his groin.

  “Don’t do it, Bradley,” Natalie whispered into the quiet stillness of her bedroom. “You don’t have to do it.”

  As if he were no more than a piece of meat to be chopped up and fried, she licked her lips. Thought she was hot shit, didn’t she? Most of them did. She had no clue what she was getting herself into.

  Natalie glanced at the clock. Three o’clock in the morning. She’d started reading Jamis’s book after all the kids had gone to sleep more than three hours ago and couldn’t seem to put it down. Quickly, she turned the page and kept reading.

  He waved her forward with a flick of his fingers. She came to him, knelt before him, and unzipped his fly without a moment’s hesitation. When he came in her mouth she didn’t even pause to swallow, simply let his fluid drip from her lips.

  Scanning to the end of the chapter, Natalie cringed as the man brutally murdered the woman.

  She was nothing. Nothing. He watched her eyes dim, reveled in her mounting fear. Too scared to scream.

  Natalie slapped the book closed and set it on her bedside table. How could he write about a man ruthlessly killing one person after another? Where did it come from? Even more amazing was how he’d brought her almost to the point of empathizing with the murderer. Worse were the eerie parallels between the killer and the cop chasing him. No wonder they’d made a movie from this story. Jamis was an incredibly skilled and gifted writer, and it was the kind of over-the-top story of conflicted, damaged characters that Hollywood loved.

  Not a broken man? Like hell.

  The urge to do something for him coursed through her like a river through a wide-open dam and she grew frustrated with herself. Was he just another mission for her? Was she afraid of abandonment? Could he be right on every single count?

  She couldn’t deny that there was some measure of truth in what he’d said. From the time she’d been adopted, she’d felt the need to pay back what she’d been given. It seemed she had to always be doing for others in order to feel right about herself. That couldn’t be good, even if good was being done.

  As for men, she’d broken off almost every single one of her past relationships. But that was in the past. There was something different about Jamis. He was strong, despite the fact that he was hurting inside. He made her laugh, sometimes want to cry, and always, always made her want him. And that was, perhaps, the sexiest thing of all about Jamis. He didn’t need her. He wanted her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “NATALIE! TELEPHONE!”

  When someone called from the living room, Natalie was throwing another load into the washing machine from the seemingly endless pile of dirty clothes eight active kids seemed to generate. “Coming!” She threw in some detergent, started the wash cycle, and then took the phone from Chase. “This is Natalie.”

  “Miss Steeger, my name is Charles Romney. I’m an attorney in Minneapolis.”

  “Hello, Mr. Romney. What can I do for you?”

  “You’re a very difficult woman to get ahold of.”

  “I am, huh?”

  “Has your attorney relayed my offers?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s unfortunate. I believe you’re missing an opportunity.”

  At that her warning flags were raised and she kept her mouth shut.

  “You recently inherited a home on Mirabelle Island and I represent a party interested in acquiring that property.”

  Confused, his comment didn’t immediately register. “It’s not for sale.”

  “Well, before you immediately discount the possibility I think you should be aware that money is of little importance in this situation.”

  She waited.

  “My client is prepared to pay you three, four times the current market value of your property. You name the price. It’s yours.”

  Jamis.

  Most of her life she’d taken criticism for trying to stay positive in dismal circumstances. She thought she was used to it, immune to its inherent negativity, but this hurt in an unexpected, but no less devastating, way. “He’s that desperate to have us gone?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You can tell Jamis Quinn that I have no intention of selling my grandmother’s house. He’s stuck with us, Mr. Romney. Goodbye.”

  “Wait! Natalie!”

  She held the phone.

  “You want to help kids. I get it, I do.” Regret filled his voice. “But eventually your inheritance and your personal savings are going to run out. You may find it extremely difficult to raise funding for your project.”

  “I already have several donors interested.”

  “Things can change.”

  Had she heard correctly? “Are you threatening me?”

  “No. Not at all. But I think you should consider that Wisconsin is full of lakes and lake homes that would suit your purposes. You should think about how many more children you could help with that additional funding.”

  He was right, but so wrong. “Mr. Romney, you probably think you know a lot about me, don’t you?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I’m going to guess you know I was adopted.” She took a deep breath. “So to say that my ancestors built this home generations ago would be a lie. You probably also know that I came to live here when I was ten.” She paused, stuffed her shaking hand into her jeans pocket. “What you can’t find in any court documents or social services records and the reason why my attorneys refused to bring your offer directly to me is because they understand that Mirabelle Island was a dream come true for me.”

  Now it was his time for silence.

  “I will get funding to continue this program in my grandmother’s house if it’s the last thing I do. This home is going to continue being a dream come true for a lot more kids. For years and years to come. I will never sell this house.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “As sure as I am of anything.”

  “I’ll relay y
our answer to my client.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll tell him myself.” She slammed down the phone.

  Angry as she could ever remember being, she marched out the door. The sharp sound of Jamis chopping wood filled the air as she charged through the woods to his house. The moment she rounded the corner and found him, his back to her as he worked his way through a pile of wood, she stopped.

  Oh, crap, he isn’t wearing a shirt.

  Mesmerized by the sight of the flexing muscles of his bare back, she could only watch. His biceps pumped with every swing. His leg muscles worked to stabilize his body with every thrust. Her mouth grew dry, her cheeks turned flush. Air didn’t seem to be making it past the lump in her throat. She wanted that body, naked and next to her. She wanted to touch and taste and feel. This ache for Jamis seemed to be destroying her from the inside out.

  Wait a minute. She was angry with him. Wasn’t she?

  JAMIS SET THE LOG ON the chopping block, heaved the ax behind him and swung, splitting the wood in two. Keeping half on the block, he swung again, quartering the original piece. Another piece of wood. Another swing and a chop. Again. Again. Hard. Harder. As hard and fast as he could.

  After having spent several ineffective hours at his computer, he’d finally given up and come outside to let off some steam. He was letting off steam all right, but his head wasn’t any clearer than when he’d begun. He set another log on the block and grabbed his ax handle.

  The softwoods, birch, cottonwood and ash weren’t cutting it. Today, he needed hardwoods, oak and maple, to work off his demons. He had a damned book due by the end of the summer and he’d barely gotten past the first chapter. He could blame it on the kids distracting him, but that was nowhere near the truth.

  It was Natalie. If it wasn’t her smile and lighthearted laughter washing away the built-up grime on his soul, it was the look of her long legs in short shorts stirring things up inside him. It was the way she looked in the moonlight pulling him toward her. It was those lips beckoning to be kissed.

  The woman was killing him. Even now, it was as if he could smell her on the slight breeze. He stopped swinging his ax in midair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was here. He spun around to find her motionless and staring at him. Sunlight streamed through the trees and lit the soft glints of gold in her hair, but it was the want he saw mirrored in her eyes that sent a jolt to his groin, giving him an instantaneous hard-on.

  After a moment, with only the sound of a chickadee piercing the silence, he whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I…” She blinked, as if coming to her senses. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Not now.” He turned away from her and set another piece of wood on the chopping block.

  “Yes. Now,” she said, sounding distinctly irritated.

  This time when he glanced back at her, her hands were on her hips and a scowl covered her face. She looked as worked up as he’d ever seen her, and, by God, still all he wanted to do was kiss her.

  “I’m not selling my house.”

  “Good for you.”

  She didn’t seem to know what to say about that. “Are you going to try to tell me that Charles Romney isn’t your attorney?”

  “No.”

  “So he is?”

  “Yep.”

  “You are the most infuriating man.” She looked perplexed, and he couldn’t blame her. She had that exact effect on him. “Do we drive you that crazy that you can’t coexist with us?” she asked.

  He dropped his ax and walked toward her. “Day and night, I hear children laughing, talking, fighting. Playing.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And when I don’t hear them, I’m expecting them. To knock on my door. To bring me cookies. Invite me to the fire. Ask if they can watch—” He stopped and spun away. Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to say anything about that.

  “Watch TV?” she asked. “Is that what you were going to say? Someone came to your house and asked to watch TV?”

  He kept his mouth shut.

  “Galen?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “No. You didn’t.” He glared at her and felt something inside him give way. “But it’s not only the kids. It’s you. You have no clue what you do to me.” You drive me crazy. Thinking about you. Wanting you. I can’t get you out of my mind.

  Her mouth parted and she seemed to lean toward him, as if the exact thoughts were running through her mind.

  “I came to Mirabelle for peace and quiet, Natalie. You and your kids disrupt my world. I want to be alone.”

  “And you’ll do whatever it takes to get me off this island?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Even if it means blocking the possibility of obtaining future funding for my camp?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “At least I’m trying to make a difference, which is more than I can say for the people who hole themselves up in their homes, or their minds, or their islands, all alone insulating themselves from the rest of the world so they don’t have to face reality.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “You sit here day in and day out feeling sorry for yourself because you’ve lost your family. You went through a big trauma. I’ll grant you that. But we all have heartache. We’ve all lost things. The difference between you and the rest of the world is that you’re stuck in the past, and the rest of us have moved on.”

  “You finished?”

  “Not even close.” She stalked toward him. “You think you’re the only one who has bad days? Nasty, depressing thoughts? Well, I’ve got news for you.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You’re not so special or unique. I have plenty of bad days. Some nights I cry myself to sleep. There are even times when I think maybe life would be easier if I shut myself off from the world and go hide on an island somewhere.”

  He clenched his jaw and waited.

  “But I don’t do that. You know why? Because I’m not going to give up. I refuse to go down waving a white flag. I’d rather be a Pollyanna any day than a coward.”

  Her words hung for a moment in the still air between them.

  “That’s what you think I am?” he whispered. “A coward?”

  “Yes.” As if someone had tossed water on her angry fire, she seemed to sputter out. Her shoulders drooped and her brow furrowed. “I thought you were a decent person, Jamis. Inside. I thought…we’d made a bit of a connection. I was wrong. So, so wrong. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to try cutting me off at the knees.”

  He wanted to object, defend himself, but he kept silent. It would be better for them both for her to continue thinking so little of him.

  “We’ll leave you alone, Jamis.” She turned and stalked away. “From now on, you can go ahead and rot in your own personal hell!”

  Jamis watched her march off into the woods. “It’s about time,” he said aloud. “Good riddance to you. And your kids.”

  She’d no sooner gone into her house, letting the porch door slam behind her, than she was stalking back outside carrying a hammer.

  Now what was she up to?

  A moment later, he had his answer. She ripped every one of his no-trespassing signs off his trees and pounded them into her trees, facing his property. Angrily, he swung his ax, splitting the log in two with one strike. Who did she think she was? And had she really called him a coward? Went to show what she knew and understood about him. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be left alone.

  But he hadn’t wanted it to be at her expense.

  Son of a bitch. He stalked into his house and dialed a number on his phone.

  “Romney, here.”

  “What did you say to her, Chuck?”

  “Hello to you, too, Jamis.” He sighed. “I told her to name her price and it was hers.”

  “And?” Jamis paced by his kitchen counter.

  “She turned it down.”

  “So you countered with?”

/>   “I told her it might be difficult for her to raise funding for next year.”

  “And what exactly did you mean by that statement?”

  “You told me to do whatever it takes.”

  Jamis ran a hand over her face. “Did I say that?”

  “Yes. You did.”

  He could’ve. He would’ve.

  “So I did some digging to find out how she’s funding this,” Chuck went on. “Her inheritance and personal savings will last a year or two. After that, she’ll have to finance this deal with donations and grants. I’ve got a list of the people and organizations she’s soliciting.”

  “You haven’t done anything yet to sabotage her obtaining that funding, have you?”

  “No. I was just throwing it out there to see if we could get her to take an offer. You say the word and—”

  “No.” Jamis closed his eyes. “Drop it. Right now. If anything, put in a plug for her and her camp.”

  “Jamis, what’s going on?”

  “I was wrong. Simple as that. Make an anonymous donation to her camp from my account.” He looked around his cabin, a stronghold and prison all rolled into one. “And find me a private island for sale. Anyplace but here!”

  “JUST IN TIME!” MISSY exclaimed the moment Natalie and her kids entered the gift shop. “Everything your kids are making is flying off the shelves. I hope you’ve brought more inventory.”

  “We certainly did,” Natalie said.

  Almost a week had passed since Jamis’s attorney had called and their resulting argument outside when he’d been chopping wood. Since then, she’d vigilantly kept the kids on their side of the tree line. The result had been some very productive crafting sessions. Galen set a box full of their wares on Missy’s counter, and Natalie handed her an itemized list of what they’d brought this time.

  “Looks good,” Missy said, handing Natalie a check and a statement. “And here’s the payment for everything I’ve sold so far.”