The Doctor's Secret Son

by Janice Lynn

  Trace cocked his brow at the older man. “You trying to tell me you don’t think I should go?”

  Bud shrugged. “Only you know the answer to whether or not you should go back.” He nodded toward where Chrissie and Agnes still talked, obviously catching up. “Maybe it’s time you find a reason to want to stay home rather than go as far away as possible.”

  “Those people need help every bit as much as the kids you’re raising money for,” Trace pointed out, not acknowledging Bud’s claim that he might have been running from something when he’d signed on to Doctors Around the World. “They’re innocent victims of governments and wars they have no control over.”

  “Civilians are always the innocent victims of war,” Bud agreed. “You do what you feel is right for you, son. All I’m saying is that there is a lot of good you can do here, too. I just think you need to keep that in mind, because I’m not convinced going back is the right choice for you.”

  Trace eyed the older man suspiciously. “You’re sure Dad didn’t put you up to trying to talk me into staying?”

  Bud laughed. “I won’t say he’s never mentioned hoping you’d stay to me, but I’m speaking for myself.”

  Trace nodded. He’d figured as much. His successful businessman father would probably fund Bud’s charity for the next fifty years if he could convince Trace to stay in Atlanta.

  Which would be a good reason to stay, if it didn’t mean having to deal with his father on a regular basis.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Blondie is looking your way.”

  Trace had noticed. Hard not to notice those intense emerald eyes studying him. He could feel her interest, could feel her body’s reaction to him.

  The same interest and reaction he was having to her.

  Obviously, the chemistry they’d shared still burned hot.

  So, why had she given him the cold shoulder?

  * * *

  Chrissie ordered her gaze to remove itself from Trace. Unfortunately, her eyes didn’t seem connected to her brain.

  Why did he have to be so hot? Those amazing eyes just sucked her in. Rich, warm toffee that made her want to melt.

  She was melting.

  No wonder she’d lost her mind four years ago. Trace was hot. Scorching, melt-a-woman-all-the-way-to-her-toes hot.

  Chrissie’s toes were ooey-gooey puddles in her shoes.

  “It’s good to have Trace back with us, too, isn’t it?”

  Oops. Obviously, Agnes noticed her distraction and had no compunction on commenting.

  Chrissie dragged her gaze away from Trace and focused on the older woman, who was watching her curiously. Something told her the woman wouldn’t buy it if she pretended not to know what she referred to. After all, Chrissie and Trace had only had eyes for each other four years ago. No doubt every volunteer there had picked up on their attraction.

  “Where’s he been?” she asked.

  Agnes’s concerned gaze went to Trace. “For the past couple of years? Yemen.”

  Surprise hit Chrissie. “Yemen?”

  “He works with Doctors Around the World.” A troubled look came over Agnes’s face, making her appear every one of her sixty plus years. “He’ll be leaving again soon. Unfortunately. He’s home because his only cousin had a baby and the timing fell right at the end of his contract.”

  Chrissie’s gaze went back to Trace. Yemen. She knew that was in the Middle East, but she wasn’t sure exactly where. She probably should have paid better attention in geography class.

  “I wondered if you two had stayed in touch while he was there and that it wasn’t a coincidence you were both volunteering again at the same time.” Agnes looked disappointed. “Obviously not.”

  Chrissie shook her head. “No, meeting Trace four years ago was nice.” Nice? Ha, that was so not the right word to describe that meeting. More like naughty. “But neither of us fooled each other that our meeting was anything more. I didn’t know he’d be here.”

  “Too bad,” Agnes countered. “That boy needs someone in his life.”

  “You sound as if you know him well,” Chrissie mused, trying not to look overly interested.

  “All his life. His father and Bud go back a long way. Well,” she clarified with a low laugh, “all the way back to elementary school. They were best friends. Trace was a few months older than our daughter. We’d always hoped they’d grow up, fall in love, and connect our families in yet another way.” Pain momentarily aged her face. “Instead, Kerry died and Trace spends his time overseas.”

  “Are you gossiping about me, Agnes?”

  Agnes quickly recovered, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Every chance I get to extol your virtues.”

  “My virtues don’t deserve extolling.”

  There was more to what he was saying than what appeared. But Chrissie’s own cheeks were burning too much with embarrassment at getting caught discussing him for her to over-analyze his comment.

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” Agnes countered. “So, where are we going to put our Chrissie to work this year?”

  Chrissie frowned. She wasn’t their Chrissie. At least, not his Chrissie. But Agnes was smiling and chatting on about the medical tent and making sure everything was ready for the event kick-off.

  “I’d like to do triage if that’s okay,” Chrissie spoke up. “It’s what I did last time.”

  “You’ve been back?” Trace asked, studying her.

  Agnes nodded. “Not for a few years, but our Chrissie is an angel from heaven, for sure.”

  Yeah, Chrissie was pretty sure with the way her insides were burning that she was from somewhere way more south.

  And Agnes knew that it had been four years. Why had she left the date a little vague?

  “Maybe you could take her to the triage area and show her how things are set up this year?” Agnes’s question was directed at Trace.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His gaze locked with Chrissie’s and he grinned as if she hadn’t cut him off earlier. “Follow me.”

  His facial expression was so similar to one she often saw on her son’s face that her breath caught. Her feet refused to move. Her head spun.

  “Chrissie?”

  Shaking her head to stop the spinning, she stepped toward him.

  Three days. Three days and then she’d change charities to volunteer at ones in Chattanooga so she’d never have to see Trace Stevens again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “YOU’VE CHANGED.”

  Chrissie’s gaze shot to Trace’s. Of course she had changed. She was a mother now. Not that she was going to tell him that.

  Although they hadn’t done a lot of talking four years ago, he had told her that he was a bachelor for life and had no plans to reproduce ever. Because of his words, and the trauma from her parents’ custody battle when she was seven, Chrissie had convinced herself that Joss belonged to her because she’d just been a weekend fling for Trace.

  Guilt pinched at her conscience, but she shoved it aside.

  Now was not the time to feel guilty. They’d shared a wild weekend of sex that had never been meant to be anything more. He hadn’t wanted it to be anything more.

  Only she’d ended up pregnant.

  Pregnant, and she hadn’t known how to get in touch with him.

  She could have contacted Bud and Agnes, could have asked for Trace’s information. Perhaps they would have given it to her.

  Only, she hadn’t.

  She and Trace had parted ways with no plans to stay in touch or ever see each other again. He’d known the city where she lived because she’d told him. Just as he’d told her he lived in Atlanta. He hadn’t bothered to get in touch with her or continue their relationship in any way.

  If he’d left the country, who knew if he’d even had a way of s
taying in touch? Then again, if he’d wanted to, he would have found a way. Chattanooga wasn’t that big and tracking down a nurse with her name couldn’t have been that difficult.

  He hadn’t, and because of that she’d never felt the need to attempt to track him down. Well, twinges from time to time, but overall she knew she’d done the right thing for her son and had even given Trace what he’d said he wanted by keeping her secret.

  How Joss had come into existence didn’t matter these days. What mattered was her precious little boy who was the center of her world, and that she’d do anything to protect him from the hell she’d gone through as a child. She would give him the best life possible, and that was that.

  But then, she hadn’t thought she’d see Trace again. Not really.

  She stared into his eyes, wondering at the emotions she saw flickering there.

  She hadn’t known he was leaving the country, hadn’t known he was with Doctors Around the World. He’d never mentioned anything of the sort to her. Something like leaving the country for an extended period of time was a big deal.

  “When did you leave for Doctors Around the World?”

  His pupils dilated and for the briefest moment darkness replaced the interest in his eyes. “I see Agnes really was gossiping about me.”

  He hadn’t answered her question. Interesting. Most of the guys she knew would have made sure everyone knew they were a doctor, that they’d signed up selflessly to help others, and they’d have played that angle to the max. Four years ago Trace hadn’t told her he was a doctor or that he was with DAW.

  Fifteen minutes and she already knew things about him she hadn’t known then.

  Was that why he’d told her he wasn’t interested in anything more than a weekend fling and never would be? Because he’d been about to leave?

  “When?” she repeated, needing to know, although she wasn’t sure why it even mattered. That he hadn’t told her such pertinent details about his life just reinforced what she already knew. It hadn’t mattered that she hadn’t known the details of his life. She was not someone who mattered.

  “The week after we met.” His lips twisted as if the words triggered unpleasant memories. “I’d purposely put off my leave date until after the event so I could help Bud and Agnes and to spend a little time with them before I took off. That’s why I didn’t sign on to work as a physician at the event, but just as extra help where needed.”

  The week after... He’d left the country the week after they’d met.

  “I haven’t been back in the United States since. Not until a week ago.”

  Four years had passed and he’d not come home. For all of Joss’s life, Trace had been out of the country, serving others.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” He reached out, brushed his fingertip over her cheek then down her jawline. “Not sure how much help I was that weekend. All I remember about those three days is you.”

  Her insides perked up at his admission and it was all she could do not to ask “It is?” with a silly school girl expression plastered to her face. Instead, she bit her tongue.

  He’d been out of the country for four years. How many times while she’d been pregnant had she thought about him living it up in Atlanta’s night life? Wining and dining some slim beauty queen while she grew rounder and rounder with his child? The glimpse of darkness in his eyes said that he hadn’t been wining or dining anyone, that he’d seen things he’d like to forget, that the past four years hadn’t been a bed of roses.

  “Have you thought about me, Chrissie?”

  She winced. Had he read her mind?

  Still, she didn’t want to answer his question any more than he’d wanted to answer hers. She didn’t want to tell him that not a day went by that he didn’t cross her mind.

  How could it when Joss was a constant reminder?

  When she went home, it would be even worse now that she’d seen Trace again and realized just how much her son truly resembled his handsome father. The facial expressions. The eyes. Joss was Trace’s mini-me.

  “Or did you forget me the minute you left Atlanta?”

  His question made her sound as if she had flings all the time, as if what she’d done with him had been no big deal. Other than a college boyfriend she’d hung around with long enough for him to take her virginity and introduce her to a mediocre sex life, she’d had no other lovers. Only Trace.

  There had been nothing mediocre about Trace.

  But she wasn’t telling him that, either.

  Because he’d been so good he must have had many lovers over the years.

  Had probably had many since, despite his being out of the country. Chrissie couldn’t suppress her grimace.

  “You know as well as I do that you aren’t exactly the kind of man a woman forgets,” she admitted as if it were no big deal. “Nor was that weekend the kind I’d just forget.”

  “Good to know.” He smiled at her admission. “It was a phenomenal weekend, wasn’t it?”

  She crossed her arms and kept her mouth shut. She’d answered enough questions.

  “But not one you want to repeat?”

  Yeah, she didn’t want to answer that either. Mainly because her body was like, “Yes, sign me up for an encore performance!” but her brain knew the best thing she could do was keep as much distance between her and Trace as possible.

  He was the father to her son. A son he didn’t know about. She needed to stay far, far away before she slipped up and said something she shouldn’t. What if she said something and he pulled a stunt like the one her father had pulled?

  She couldn’t bear the thought of Trace disappearing with her son. Not that he would likely even want anything to do with Joss, but, still, her own father had practically ignored her the first seven years of her life and that hadn’t stopped him.

  Her gaze lifted to his and rather than saying, No, I don’t want a repeat, as a good, smart girl would do, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

  His expression brightened. “Then you do want a repeat?”

  Ugh. She’d walked right into that one.

  She studied his toffee-colored gaze, his smooth tanned skin, the obvious sexual interest in his eyes. “You do?”

  “What sane man wouldn’t want a repeat of what you and I had?”

  There was that.

  “Sex without strings?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Not exactly how I’d have worded it.”

  She didn’t let her gaze waver. “Which doesn’t make it any less true.”

  His forehead furrowed and he did some studying of his own. She refused to look away, refused to shift her weight or show any sign of weakness.

  Even if her insides quaked at the power this man had over her.

  “Did you want strings, Chrissie?”

  Heat rushed into her face. She was going to have to be careful of what she said. Which was why she needed to stay away. Nothing good could come from spending time with Trace.

  “No, of course not.” She hadn’t. She’d known what they shared was just a man and a woman thrown together by circumstances and sexual attraction. “You told me you weren’t the marrying kind. I didn’t expect anything to come of our weekend together.” She sure hadn’t expected to become a mother. “No strings was fine.”

  A tired look came over his face and he raked his fingers through his hair. “I was leaving the country in three days. I couldn’t have done strings if I’d wanted to.”

  Something in his tone had her insides fluttering with a bundle of nervous energy.

  “Did you want to?”

  * * *

  Good question, and one that Trace had asked himself a thousand times in the years that had passed since he’d last seen this woman. What would he have done differently had he not been committed?

 
“I didn’t allow myself to consider strings as a possibility.” Which was what he always came back to when his mind got to wondering. Not that he would ever have settled down, but he would have liked more time with Chrissie, to have been able to let the fire between them burn out naturally.

  Her pretty face pinched and her gaze averted. “Which explains why you never asked for a phone number.”

  Although he was sure she didn’t want them to, her words conveyed that she’d been hurt. That he’d hurt her stung.

  “There was no point in my asking.”

  “I see.” Her lower lip disappeared again.

  “I don’t think you do.” He lifted her chin and stared into the greenest eyes he’d ever looked into. “I was leaving the country, had volunteered for a crazy assignment. Putting you or any woman through the stress of a relationship when I was over there, especially when nothing would ever have come from that relationship anyway—it wouldn’t have been fair.”

  Her chin trembled beneath his fingertips and Trace wanted to kiss her so badly his insides ached. They were alone in the medical tent, but someone could walk in. Which didn’t overly concern him. He’d seen and done too much to let something as irrelevant as someone seeing him kiss Chrissie get to him. But Chrissie was still sending mixed signals.

  One minute hot, the next cold.

  When he kissed her next, he wanted her to want it as much as he did, not to be second-guessing herself.

  He would kiss her again. Soon. She might not want to admit it, but she wanted the kiss as much as he did. Everything in her expression, her stance, her eyes, said so.

  “Well, I guess you’re a damn saint, then, eh?”

  There went the cold again. And the hurt.

  “Far from it.”

  Looking away, she shrugged. “Not to hear Agnes tell it.”