by Mindy Neff
“You know, I’m not usually wrong about people, but you’re an exception. You’re not a nice man, Chase Fowler. I don’t want you anywhere near my son. I might have slept with you, but that doesn’t give you any rights. You’ve got no place in my life, or my son’s.” She was spitting mad now and scared to death. “Your arrogance is beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. J.T. is my son, not yours.”
“Want to bet?” His tone darkened, as did his eyes. “I can order blood tests, Josie.”
“You’d put a total stranger through that? A baby, for God’s sake? Why? What are you basing this obsession on? Millions of kids have dark hair and blue eyes and—” She drew in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?”
Slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, Chase had pushed himself off the railing and straightened. The buttons on his cotton shirt were now open to the waist.
Josie began to feel genuine fear.
He pulled the shirttails out of his jeans, then whipped the material off, bunching it in his hand. “This is what I’m basing it on.”
The light spilling through the screen door illuminated his sculpted shoulders and torso. God help her, she didn’t want to react to that male virility. Before her mind was snagged too far off course, she became aware that he was pointing to a spot on his upper shoulder. There, shining like a beacon against the night was a birthmark, the exact replica of the one J.T. had on his own tiny shoulder.
Josie felt herself trembling, but there wasn’t a thing in the world she could do to stop the tremors. The crescent-shaped mark told its own story.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “This can’t come out!”
Chapter Three
When he spoke again, his voice was low, raspy, strained with barely leashed control. “And if I don’t see it that way?”
Josie felt a moment’s fear, but she couldn’t back down now. Her son’s well-being—his whole future—was at stake.
“Then I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” His brows drew low over narrowed eyes. “My son deserves to have my name, Josie.”
“He has a name.”
“My name,” he stressed. “It’s what I want.”
“What you want?” Josie had an overwhelming urge to hit something. Her heart pounded and her stomach twisted. “You’re not the only one involved here.”
“Obviously.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you were only my sperm donor.” Oh, no. Now she’d admitted it and there was no turning back.
“Sperm—” He sputtered to a stop, his look thunderous. “I’m the kid’s father. I own up to my responsibilities.”
“I’m not asking you to be responsible.”
“Well, that’s a damned switch. Most women would, you know.”
“I’m not most women.” Why couldn’t he see that? She sighed, feeling as if her whole life were falling apart before her eyes. She’d thought her motives were so pure and unselfish. Maybe others wouldn’t see it that way, but Josie truly believed she’d acted out of love alone.
“When did Bobby die?”
The switch in subjects only increased her anxiety. What was he up to? “Why?”
“Just answer the question. Was it before or after J.T. was born?”
“Before.”
He swore. “Then your sperm donor analogy won’t cut it. That little boy never knew your husband, but he knows me. And he’s going to know me a whole lot better.”
“Chase, don’t do this to me.” Josie felt tears building, nearly choking her. But she refused to cry in front of him. She’d been through too much in her twenty-eight years. Vulnerabilities were to be hidden, not laid out for any and all to sneer at and take advantage of. That lesson had been learned at the hands of her own mother.
“What about me?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I need some time.” Josie knew she’d have to make some decisions. She also knew she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make those decisions. Once before she’d acted impulsively. It had been the only time in her life she’d veered so far off her normal course. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Fine. You take some time and think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Chase—”
“I need to get that bed out of the attic.”
“There’s no need for you to do that.”
“I’ll be back,” he repeated harshly and strode off the porch, his discarded shirt still clutched in his hand.
The sound of the truck’s door being wrenched open and slammed shut echoed like an explosion in the night. Even the crickets and tree frogs hushed up at the disturbance. Dust and rocks flew as the tires on his pickup spun. Oh, God, she cried silently. He was madder than sin. In that state, Chase Fowler was a wild card—and Josie wasn’t particularly fond of surprises. They had a way of keeping a person off-balance, never knowing whether to expect danger or triumph.
The fact that she knew very little of Chase Fowler’s true personality caused a wealth of anxiety within Josie. It also made her admit something to herself that she’d been resisting with a fierce passion.
She no longer had complete and total control over the course she’d chosen for J.T.’s life, as well as her own.
Her worst nightmare had just come true.
Lightning flickered again in the clear sky. Normally she’d enjoy just sitting out here watching one of nature’s dramatic light shows. But tonight she was too keyed up.
Going back in the house, she checked on J.T., relieved that he was sleeping soundly, then headed for the spare bedroom she’d turned into a workshop of sorts. She switched on her sewing machine and grabbed a precut swatch of delicate, ivory satin. If she had any hope of holding on to her sanity, she couldn’t think about Chase anymore tonight. She just couldn’t.
The orders for her specialized lingerie were coming in faster than she could fill them. It seemed she had fewer hours in each day, especially since her father-in-law’s recent stroke. Due to his poor health, the responsibility for the bulk of the Alexander business holdings had fallen onto her shoulders.
In a moment of self-pity, Josie wondered if there would ever come a time when she wouldn’t have to put her own hopes and dreams on hold in order to please someone else.
Now on top of everything else, there was Chase Fowler to deal with.
Alone, with no one to witness the weakness, Josie tunneled her fingers through her hair, bent her head over the silent, momentarily unproductive sewing machine, and gave in to the anguished tears she’d held back for so long.
Chase’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Wind rushed through the open window of the truck, carrying the scent of alfalfa.
His was the only truck on the open country road. Normally he didn’t mind being alone, but tonight was different.
Fields stretched for miles on either side of him. He had an urge to get in his plane and defy the laws of nature. Flying a foot off the ground at 120 knots created an adrenaline surge comparable only to good sex. But a half-million-dollar airplane wasn’t a good place to be when a man had heavy things on his mind.
Dodging trees and high wires, or even something as simple as a neglected shovel left standing between the rows of bushy cotton required absolute concentration. With the surprises and turmoil he’d experienced today, he’d have to have a death wish to climb into the cockpit of his air tractor tonight.
God Almighty, he was a father.
He didn’t know how he’d managed to have a fairly rational discussion with Josie on the subject without it turning into an all-out war. He didn’t know how he’d managed to hold his emotions in check. But he knew that the innocent person in all this was a little boy. From bitter experience Chase knew what it was like to have your life pulled apart by the stigma of illegitimacy. By pushing the issue, he could very well inflict the same wounds on his own son that he himself had suffered as a child. Still, his own moral code and sense of responsibility begged to be satisfied.
Admittedly, he hadn’t given a lot of thought to father-hood. He’d been too busy making plans, building up his crop-dusting business. Now, in less than a day, just eight short hours, his world had been rocked right down to its foundation.
He had a son.
With the stars bright overhead and the smell of hay soothing his turmoil, Chase made a decision to change his tactics. He’d promised himself four years ago that if he ever found this woman again, he’d hold on to her, learn her secrets, woo her, erase the soul-deep sadness that had mesmerized him so, haunted him for four long years.
The one secret he hadn’t counted on uncovering—that they’d made a baby together—suddenly tilted his world. It also upped the stakes of his plans.
Because Chase had an agenda that was as personal and important to him as his name. He wasn’t quite sure how it’d come out, or when, but he had some surprises of his own that could very well rock this small Louisiana town.
And Josie Alexander, it seemed, was caught smack in the middle.
The rooster started crowing before dawn. Josie was sure that the darn bird had gone senile. In all the years she’d had him, he’d never once timed his morning call right.
Her eyes felt as if they were coated with sand, but trying for an extra hour of sleep was futile.
That was Chase Fowler’s fault, she thought sourly. Her traitorous mind had conjured up illicit, erotic dreams of second-rate motel rooms and a dark, sexy stranger. As much as she’d fought them, the night pictures would not cease. They left her hot and edgy and aching for something she had no business even thinking about.
Sighing, Josie threw her legs over the side of the bed and drew on an old pair of jeans and sneakers. The rooster gave another piercing, five-note call. She hoped the stillness of predawn would carry the racket across the cotton field, right into Chase Fowler’s ears. Misery loves company and all that, she thought.
After she’d fed the chickens and gathered the eggs, Josie showered and dressed in a denim skirt and ivory shell. The humidity was already making her skin crawl and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.
Having loaded the Bronco and cleaned up the house, she strapped J.T. into his car seat and headed into town. The boy chattered the whole way, exclaiming over each cow and stray dog they passed, as if he’d never seen one in his life. Josie tried to keep him occupied, but it was getting increasingly difficult with each mile they traveled. She felt cranky and, well…conspicuous—as if everyone in town had somehow learned her secret.
Rationally, she knew that wasn’t the case. Chase Fowler might have been angry and determined, but he had a gentle streak, a southern code of honor that would prevent him from destroying her life on a whim. She certainly didn’t know him well enough to be making such a character judgment, but she believed it deep down in her soul.
Foolish woman, she thought. It wouldn’t do to let her guard down. Show your vulnerabilities and people had a tendency to walk over you without a backward glance. A person wouldn’t dream of stepping on a rose, but they’d tread on a dandelion and never even consider the slight destruction.
“Play with the kids, Mama?”
Josie glanced over at J.T. who had his little hands resting on the padded safety bar of the car seat. “Yes, darling. As soon as we see Aunt Dottie, I’ll take you over to Mary Alice’s.”
“’kay.”
Josie smiled. She knew that J.T. looked forward to the two days a week he spent at the day-care center. Mary Alice Temple ran the center out of a little building her husband had built for her on their property. She was a natural with children and truly one of the sweetest people Josie had ever known.
She and Josie had been best friends since grade school. They’d cried over pimples and boys and griped about curfews, which they’d sworn were ruining their lives forever. They’d whispered about sex, gossiped worse than the old ladies down at the garden club, and made outlandish, yet oh-so-solemn predictions about who’d be the first to get their period or their boobs. They’d competed as only true friends can compete, yet always remained strong and fierce in their loyalty to each other. There’d never been a single secret between them.
Except one.
Josie glanced over at J.T. as she parked the Bronco in front of a small dress shop on Main Street. Every time she looked at his sweet face, she felt incredible joy. She was so blessed. Her chest tightened and she had to make a conscious effort to relax. There was no way she’d allow her own sin to touch this baby’s life. Right now, that seemed like an impossible vow to keep, but Josie wouldn’t let that stop her. She’d think of something.
“Hey, Aunt Dottie.” Trying to keep a firm grip on the padded hangers in her hand, Josie set J.T. down next to a rack of women’s blouses and threaded her way through the small dress shop toward the tiny woman behind the counter. The place smelled of lilacs and peppermints, scents that had been Dottie Alexander’s trademark for as long as Josie could remember. Her great-aunt by marriage—Bobby’s great-aunt—Josie felt closer to this woman than even her own mother.
“Hey, hon. You look tired.”
Josie smiled and bent down to kiss Dottie’s cheek, careful not to smudge the rouge and caked powder. Josie admired Aunt Dottie’s soft, young-looking skin, to which the older woman strongly credited her years of dedication to Ponds cold cream. “I’m a little beat. I stayed up late to finish this order.”
“Well, let me just get a look at these newest creations.”
Josie displayed the items she’d brought: a silk chemise in rich turquoise, boxer-style pajamas fashioned out of brocade satin, a whispery-soft camisole and tap pants in crepe de chine, and a dramatic electric blue teddy, alluringly sheer and silky with a dyed-to-match Venice lace insert to create an illusion of modesty.
“My land, these are wicked.” Dottie chuckled and hung the lingerie on a special rack.
All of Josie’s designs were wickedly sensual, to the absolute delight of her customers. Even women who worked their farms alongside their husbands appreciated the incredibly feminine, sensuous slide of silk against their bodies. Josie had taken that into account when she’d designed her first piece of lingerie. The major part of her clientele might wear practical jeans and shirts and boots, but beneath those work clothes their bodies were encased in pure sin.
Dottie shook her head and with a twinkle in her crystal blue eyes, said, “Rumor has it that husbands around these parts are having trouble concentrating on farm equipment. Some folks are blamin’ that on you, Josie Mae.”
“Have I started a scandal, Aunt Dottie?” She’d meant the words in fun, but her conscience didn’t quite get the message. Guilt swamped her, making her feel as if her secret were flashing like a neon sign across her forehead. Instinctively, she looked around for J.T., who had his nose pressed against the glass display case.
“A shrewd business scandal, the best kind.” Aunt Dottie didn’t seem to pick up on anything being amiss. “My lady friends down at the garden club claim you’re partly responsible for the growing population in northeast Louisiana.”
Josie laughed. “Aunt Dottie, you’re teasing me.” She looked around again for her son. “Oh, no. J.T., honey, don’t lick the glass. You know how Aunt Dottie hates to clean it.”
“Leave that child be. A few fingerprints and slobber never hurt nobody. Besides, I keep telling you I’m about ready to retire. If you take over the shop like you’ve always wanted, that baby’s fingerprints on the case there will come to be your trademark.”
“No, it just means I’ll be the one cleaning it all the time. And I’d much rather have my lingerie be my trademark.”
“No doubt about that, child. Given the right environment and approach, you could stand to make a mint.”
Josie sighed. That was a dream she tried not to covet too fiercely. “Someday, Aunt Dottie. Don’t give up on me.”
“Leroy putting more pressure on you?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Don’t be so cotton pickin’ agreeable. I m
ight be an old lady, but my eyesight is just fine. Since Bobby’s gone, you been wearing yourself out trying to pick up the slack. Let Harold earn his keep for a while. It’s what Leroy pays him for, isn’t it?”
“The land was Bobby’s pride and joy, Aunt Dottie. You know that. And besides, Harold’s not family.”
“Sound’s just like something Leroy would say. You tell that nephew of mine to turn loose of some of his cash and get you some help. You got a life to live, girl. See to your dreams now, while you’re young.”
If only there was an abundance of cash to turn loose of, Josie thought. It was for that reason that she’d had to sell off the adjacent land to Chase. And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants? The true financial position of the Alexanders was a well-guarded secret, and Josie was one of a very few who was privy to that information. Talk about trademarks, wanted or otherwise. It seemed she’d become the queen of secrets lately.
“Soon, Aunt Dottie.” Josie bent down and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thanks for caring.” She held out her hand for J.T. “Ready to go, sweetie?”
“In your spare time,” Dottie said with a devilish smirk that portrayed pure fun and a wealth of love, “see what you can do about designing me one of them fancy brassieres. I’ve a mind to shake up a couple of old fuddy-duddy’s over at the garden club. Who knows. Might even start a new fad.”
“Aunt Dottie,” Josie said, feigning shock, “I’m surprised at you.”
“Oh, go on with you now. Ain’t nowhere it says that young folks can have all the fun.”
“You’re absolutely right. But give me some guidelines here. Are we talking soft and sexy, or hard-core Madonna?”