by Ann Jacobs
Late that night, after Brett had gone to sleep, it came to Andi that she, too, had wanted Gray to stay. She wanted more than was smart, more than she sensed Gray was ready to give—and she wanted to give him far more than she dreamed he might accept from her.
* * * * *
He’d wanted to stay. If he had, though, he’d have had to reveal more than he imagined any woman would want to know about the logistical challenges he faced. Somehow his therapists’ claims that he was one of the lucky ones held no water, not when he still couldn’t make do in bathrooms that didn’t come with grab rails and raised toilet bowls.
As if he could hide the truth. Well, at least he could keep from slapping Andi and their kid in the face with the gory facts. For a while, anyhow. Maybe he’d prove the doctors wrong, gain more mobility than they thought he could, manage to make some kind of a life he’d be willing to ask them to share.
Gray laughed out loud. There was nothing like meeting the playmate he’d never forgotten and the son he never dared imagine he might have, to make him start dreaming impossible dreams.
That night he tossed in restless sleep, his body tangled in smooth cotton sheets, his breathing ragged. His cock rock-hard and ready, his body broken out in a cold sweat, he reached for a lover who wasn’t there.
Something didn’t fit. Smooth clean sheets in this hellhole of a prison?
Strange. He couldn’t hear water dripping down the walls, or the usual pathetic moans from prisoners in the cells next to his own. Had their captors silenced them? Gray strained to hear the sound of booted feet against hard-packed clay, smell the pungent odors of cheap rum and high-grade Colombian ganja.
Expecting more poking, prodding, perhaps another beating at the hands of the animals who were his jailers, Gray held very still. Maybe they wouldn’t bother with him if they thought he’d passed out.
Suddenly he awakened. Soft light streamed through half-closed vertical blinds, not bars. A glance around the spacious room revealed no hard-packed earth, no sweating walls to drip foul-smelling water over his aching flesh.
Gray was home, and it was morning. Time to get up, begin a new life that suddenly had new meaning. He had a son. Brett.
And Andi. Had she meant it when she kissed him yesterday, or had that kiss been, as she’d said, merely to see if he tasted as good as she remembered? He dared not assume she meant more, or that she wanted more of whatever he might be able to give her sexually.
Still he wondered. He imagined Andi’s lithe silky body under his hands, getting wet and hot while he stroked her incredibly soft, sensitive skin. When he thought of Andi on her knees over his face, begging him to lick her pussy—or straddling him, welcoming his cock into her hot, wet cunt—his balls felt as though they’d burst.
For a minute he fantasized that he still could satisfy her…that with his voice and his hands he could arouse her as much as he’d once done by sweeping her off her feet, fucking her standing up while they showered together. Shit, he couldn’t even top her anymore unless she wanted to risk being squashed under his still substantial weight.
He transferred himself to his chair and headed for the bathroom. The persistent throbbing in his groin didn’t go away until he hit it with a frigid blast from the showerhead. Not that Gray didn’t welcome the arousal. He did. It was a welcome reminder that he’d been spared a permanent spinal injury. That unlike some of the paraplegics he’d met at the rehab center, he could still have sex.
Of course there were plenty of ifs to that. If he could get past the mental hurdle of letting a partner see all his scars. If he could find a woman who could look past them and see him. If he could swallow his pride and ask her to take the leading role in bed.
When he looked at himself he had trouble believing a woman could want him now. Particularly Andi, whose voracious sexual appetite had taxed him to satisfy when he’d been whole.
Maybe if he had the surgery…
No. The risk was too great. The operation to drain and shunt the cyst that had formed at the site of the injury that caused his spinal stenosis could improve his mobility as well as alleviating the pain. Unfortunately it might as easily sever his spinal cord.
At least the constant pain let him know he was still alive. And he had control over his bodily functions. All of them. He wouldn’t if the cord were severed at the point of the injury. He’d leave well enough alone.
Gray shoved dreams of sex to the back of his mind. Instead he thought of Brett and all the things he wanted them to do together. They’d start making up for lost time right away.
Damn. He could barely stand looking at his fractured face without the concealing patch. Pity he couldn’t very well bathe and shave with the thing in place. As he raked the electric razor over his cheeks and chin, he considered whether he could manage a trip to Disney World. Or maybe deep sea fishing in the Keys. He and Andi could take Brett…
What the hell was he doing, picturing outings not just with his son, but with Andi too? He had to be losing his mind, imagining the three of them doing things as a family.
No matter how he tried over the next few days, Gray couldn’t banish that impossible scenario from his mind. By Friday morning, he found himself longing for six o’clock, when Andi had said she and Brett would arrive to spend the weekend.
* * * * *
“How much longer will it be before we get there?”
Andi glanced at the snarl of cars on Courtney Campbell Causeway, then grinned at Brett. “About twenty minutes, if we ever get out of this traffic jam.”
She’d take her bungalow in old Hyde Park any day rather than fight the rush hour nightmare to get to the Gulf beaches. “Do you hear sirens?”
“Yeah.” His pupils got bigger as he watched two ambulances streak by them on the way back to Tampa. “Mommy, did they take Dad to the hospital in one of those?”
Imagining what hideous tortures Gray had endured brought bile up in Andi’s throat, but she swallowed it. For Brett’s sake, she kept her tone light. “They might have, at some point. But I imagine they brought him back from South America on a plane.”
“Do you think he can swim?” Brett watched some older kids cavorting on personal water vehicles as their car crept along next to the causeway beach.
Andi felt a momentary twinge of guilt. Her unreasonable fear of drowning had kept her from taking her son for outings in the pool and on the beaches, which cut him out of a lot of Florida fun. “I don’t know.”
“I bet he can. Lisa in my swimming class can swim real good, and she can’t walk at all, even with crutches.”
“You’ll have to ask your dad.” Swimming was only one of many skills Andi had no idea whether Gray had possessed before his ordeal, much less now.
“Okay. Look, Mommy. There’s a big dog playing out in the water. Can I have one?” Brett pointed toward a ribbon of sand along the causeway. A happy looking golden retriever trotted out of the murky water toward its master, a stick clenched between its teeth.
“No. It wouldn’t be fair, keeping a dog inside all day while you’re at school and I’m working,” Andi told her son for what had to have been the hundredth time.
He shot a longing look at the dog. “Maybe Dad has a dog.”
“He doesn’t. He has to work, too.”
Brett kept quiet for a few minutes, as if deep in thought. Just as Andi was beginning to hope he’d stay silent until the traffic cleared, he turned to her. “You won’t have to work when you and Dad get married. You can stay home, the way Kristine does since she married Tony.”
Damn the traffic and the dog and her son’s constant chatter. Between them, her patience was close to the breaking point. “That’s not going to happen, Brett.”
“But you told me you never got married because you thought Dad was dead. Aren’t you going to marry him now?”
Oh, God. It hadn’t been a month since some jerk kid at school had taunted Brett about his mom not having a husband, since she’d spun that tall tale about how she and his dad would
have married if only he hadn’t died while protecting their country. Why was it every time she opened her big mouth her words came back to haunt her?
“No, Brett.”
“Why not?”
Someone farther back in the line of westbound cars blasted on his horn. When Andi looked up, she noticed traffic ahead of her had started moving.
“I’ve got to watch the road. We’ll talk about this later,” she said as she pulled into the space the car ahead of her had just vacated.
“Is it because he got hurt? Because he’s got scars?”
“Of course not. Brett, your dad’s the same man he always was, inside. Inside is what counts. Haven’t I always told you that?”
“Then why won’t you marry him? Take care of him?” he asked, his plaintive tone tearing at Andi’s heart.
She kept her eyes on the road, tried to banish a mental picture of Gray’s face, still compelling in spite of its imperfections.
“Why, Mommy?”
“Not now, Brett. I have to pay attention to traffic.” The words came out sounding harsher than she’d intended. “Sorry, buddy. You just don’t understand.”
How the hell could she tell a seven-year-old kid she’d lied? That he was the product of a glorified three-night stand, not the love match of the century?
How could she explain that chances were, if Gray had known about her pregnancy, he probably would have offered no more than financial support—certainly not the cozy family scene she’d painted to salve her son’s wounded pride?
Good thing lying was just a sin, not a crime. Andi doubted even silver-tongued Tony Landry could put a positive spin on what she’d done to salvage her own ego as much as bolster Brett’s self-image.
“Aren’t you glad Dad’s not really dead?”
“Of course.” That was the truth. The whole truth. She’d cried for days when his boss had confirmed that he’d been killed…grieved for months. Damn it, she’d missed his sexy grin, his magic touch, the erotic sensation of being under his control, nearly every day since he’d been gone.
“Then why don’t you want to marry him now? Moms and dads and kids ought to live together.”
Because she and Gray were strangers. Because the last thing Gray would want would be to marry her. Because she wasn’t the woman she’d been eight years ago any more than he was the same man. A thousand becauses Andi couldn’t begin to explain to a child.
“Brett, you’re too little to understand.” She shouldn’t have snapped at him and she knew it. After all, this mess was her fault, not his. If only she could distract the kid who already showed promise of becoming as adept at arguing as anyone might expect, knowing both of his parents had chosen the law as their profession.
“This is where your dad lives. We’re finally here. I can’t wait to hit the beach. How about you?” Nervous, she popped the trunk latch and opened the door.
“Yeah!” Snatching his duffel bag, Brett bounded toward the building.
Andi picked up her own weekender and hurried to keep him in sight. Thank God he was still young enough to distract with the prospect of a special treat. With a lot of luck, he’d get so caught up in having fun, he’d forget all about her tall tale about ill-fated love and the tragedy that had ended it.
Recalling that luck had never been her bosom buddy, Andi made a silent prayer that Brett would at least refrain from sharing her lie with Gray before she found opportunity to confess it and throw herself at his mercy. She fought to hold her hand steady when she knocked on his door.
Gray greeted them on crutches, his smile very different from the scowl he’d worn a week ago. The lines around his mouth seemed less pronounced, too.
“Are you ready for us?” Andi asked, shoving her worries to the back of her mind.
“Come on in. I’d offer to take your bags, but—”
Apparently he was as nervous as she. “We’ll be fine. Come on, Brett.”
“Dad, can we go down to the beach now?” Brett asked.
“Sure. Put your things in your rooms first.” He gestured down the hallway to the left. “Second and third doors. Hurry and change. We’ll go grab some hot dogs from one of the vendors and watch the sunset.”
* * * * *
“You’ve done a great job with him.” Not every single parent, especially a mom whose job was as demanding as hers, could have brought up a kid as obviously well-adjusted as their son.
Andi looked over at Brett and the sandcastle he was building, out of earshot yet close enough that Gray knew she could run and grab him if he decided to stray too close to the gentle surf. “Yeah. He’s a good kid. I just hope he doesn’t suddenly decide he wants to take a swim.”
“The water within a hundred yards of shore’s not more than a few inches deep. He should be okay. I take it you still haven’t conquered your fear of water.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe you remember after all this time. No, I’m still petrified of getting into any more water than I can put into my bathtub. Brett’s hoping you’ll be more enthusiastic about water sports than I.”
“Swimming’s one of the few sports I can still manage. I have to do it in a pool, though, not out there.”
“Brett will be happy to hear you like to swim, even if it has to be in the pool. He’s pretty good. Last summer he got his beginner certificate, and I’ve signed him up for more lessons as soon as school lets out.”
Andi’s generosity touched Gray. He reached out and clasped her hand. “Thank you for having him. For sharing him with me. Hell, I wish you hadn’t had to wait eight years to hear me tell you that.” He wished he’d had those years with his sturdy son who looked so much like him that it was spooky. Lost years he could never reclaim.
“Better late than never.” Andi leaned toward him, speaking loudly above the rising wind.
Was it? Gray stared down at himself and at the beach chairs Andi had carried while he dragged himself down here across the deep, dry sand. He’d wanted to sprawl on the beach with Brett and help him build his castle, but if he had, he’d never get back on his feet.
“Gray?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Nothing Andi could do anything about, any more than she could divert the angry looking clouds that hovered on the horizon. “Looks as though a storm’s brewing out there.”
Lightning crackled, and more thunder crashed over swelling waves. Andi stood and folded her chair. “Sounds that way, too. Brett, come on. We’d better get inside.”
Mother and son wrestled the wind to fold a beach towel while he fiddled with his braces. When Andi called out Gray’s name, he did his best to hurry.
They’d have ice cream on sticks, watch one of the G-rated movies Gray had rented on the way home from work. Or maybe watch the storm from the safety of his living room. One small family unit, bound by blood but held apart by time and circumstances beyond their control.
Would they get over the awkwardness? Would time erase the uneasiness he sensed in Andi every time she looked him in the eye? He couldn’t expect more. Despite their ancient history, they were virtual strangers. Only Brett seemed okay—living proof that kids took changes in stride better than grown-ups.
Time moved on, but slowly, the way he moved now even with the wind at his back.
He and Andi would take cautious steps toward knowing each other, becoming friends. They’d make it. Their journey would be easier because they had a child to lead the way.
Gray hauled himself to his feet and began the arduous trek across windblown sand. The fifty yards might as well have been fifty miles, the way he felt by the time he finally joined Andi and Brett by the elevator.
* * * * *
“Brett is down for the count.”
It felt good holding his son. “Want me to take him to his room?” In the wheelchair, that was possible, though Gray imagined the awkward motions of his arms on the wheels would waken Brett.
“Not necessary. He’s still light enough for me to ca
rry.” Andi bent, pausing above him as she slid her hands under the little boy. The neckline of her T-shirt thing gaped open, providing an arousing view of her breasts. It was all Gray could do to resist lowering his head, nuzzling the alabaster inner curve that defined her cleavage, especially when she brushed his thighs with her knuckles as she lifted their son off his lap.
He had to be hallucinating. Her action couldn’t have been less sexual, but his cock was swelling so fast he felt light-headed. When Andi rose, Brett in her arms, she paused a moment. When her soft gaze met his, she smiled. A soft, submissive smile like the ones imprinted in his memories. Her pink tongue darted out of her mouth, wet her lips. Gray could no longer deny the sexual tension—or assume any longer that it was all one-sided.
As though rejoining Gray after carrying Brett to bed were the most natural thing in the world for her to do, Andi came back a few minutes later, curled her legs beneath her neatly rounded ass, and leaned against the sofa cushions.
Gray wasn’t proud of the resentment that had welled up in his gut when he watched her carry their son off to bed without apparent effort. He tried to squelch the thought that he should have been the one performing that simple act of putting Brett in bed.
Andi looked straight at him, then shot him a nervous looking smile. “Gray, I’ve got to tell you something.”
“Shoot.”
Her smile wavered. “That’s what I imagine you’ll want to do to me after I tell you Brett thinks we were all but married before you…”
“Died?”
“Yeah. Some kids at school teased him because he didn’t have a dad. I lied because I thought you were dead and that it wouldn’t hurt anybody for Brett to believe his parents had been in love.” Andi straightened her legs and leaned toward him, as if seeking his understanding.
He couldn’t fault her for trying to make their son feel good about himself. “Andi, don’t sweat it.” Gray saw fear in her sea-blue gaze.
“You don’t understand. I didn’t just lie. I lied like the proverbial rug. Spun a fairy tale right out of Grimm’s. I won’t deny that at least part of the reason I did it was to make myself look better.