"You still don't get it, do you, Jake?" Sarah looked at him, her eyes drowned in tears.
He wouldn't let her shove him out of her life this easily. A barely comprehended hurt pushed him. Slouching on one hip, he drawled, "I understand I brought your son back to you." Fear generated anger and overrode caution. "And I understand that I can have you any time I want you." He
yanked her to him, holding her against his hard, rain-damp length.
Sad and mournful, like slivers of glass on terrazzo, her words pierced him as nothing else ever had. "Once. Not any more. You want, you take. That's not what I need in my life, Jake. I need love."
"So help me learn." He'd use whatever weapon he could. He opened his mouth over hers in a claiming he'd not known he was capable of. Again and again he sought the sweetness of her mouth which lay cool and unresponsive under his. Shoving her against the damp boards of the booth he touched her, smoothed her hair sparkling with carousel lights and mist, and murmured dark words of passion and love he'd never said before, moved his seeking fingers over her. Nothing he did changed her marble-cool lips to the soft warmth of Sarah. Nothing.
One last time he let himself surge into the honey of her mouth, tasted her, sought the deepest recesses of her mouth with his stroking, hungry tongue. Heaven. Hell.
"Love is more than this, Jake." Sarah stepped back, not even bothering to wipe away his kisses. "If you loved me, you'd have told me about Nicholas. You couldn't have waited this long. Every time I came close to the truth, you lied to me. Is that your definition of love, Jake? Because it's not mine." Sarah looked around her before brushing off her jeans.
"Maybe I don't know love as you define it, Miss Simpson." Deliberately, Jake insulted her. "My definition leans more to passionate kisses and long, slow nights in bed." He was furious with frustration and pain. How could she dismiss the way she felt in his arms? He had to find a way to convince her that what he'd done wasn't as black-and-white as she was making it.
"Well, you should have no trouble falling in love again, then," she said. "Try any street corner. In the meantime, I want to get Nicholas and go home."
Jake flexed his fingers. He wanted to rip the booth behind him apart, board by board. "What does that mean, precisely?"
Slowly and precisely, she told him. "It means Nicholas and I are going to the house with Buck. You can go where you want to. But I want you gone."
"And what are you going to tell Nicholas when I don't show up?"
'Til start with the truth," she said, her clear gaze searching the shadows around her.
Jake spoke through clenched teeth. "Won't work. You'll have a hysterical kid on your hands. Anyway, do you think it's fair to uproot him again? You've been talking about love. Explain, if you can, please, how that fits into your definition." He couldn't help lashing out like a wounded animal with its paw caught in a trap gnawing at itself in pain.
"All right. You can tell him. Then you leave." The soft contours of her face tightened with determination.
"You have it all worked out, don't you?" Acid dripped from his voice. "And how do you propose to make me?"
"What?" She frowned.
"What if I decide I don't want to leave?"
"Why would you want to stay?" Bewilderment was in her voice.
He hadn't come this far to lose the only thing that had ever given shape and meaning to his life. "I love you. I love Nicholas. I've never loved anyone the way I love both of you." Rough and primitive, the feelings poured out. "I found something with you I didn't know existed."
He hadn't even known he loved her until the words came out from some deep well inside. When had it happened? And how? Maybe when he first saw her, or that day in the boat, but there was no way out for him now. The words were all said.
A flicker of compassion moved over her face, and he seized on it.
4 'What I did, I did at first because I loved Nicholas. Is that so wrong?" He rolled his shoulders in frustration.
"Poor Jake." She sighed. "You really don't know about love and trust, do you?" She raked her hair back. "I loved and trusted one man and it cost me my child." At last her hands stilled. "And I was falling in love with you."
She held up a hand to stop him as he began to speak. "I was bewitched by the way I felt with you and the way you acted with Nicholas. And once more I trusted where I shouldn't have. You'd have taken my son away, too."
A cow horn's raucous blast split the air.
"You must have been satisfied every time I kissed you back." Her lip trembled and Jake touched the corner.
"Never. I only wanted more. Everything you could give." He realized that was true, and he wasn't going to give up now, now when he could see what life might be like.
"Anyway, Jake, it's not important. I want you gone. I don't think I could look at you day after day and remember what almost was."
"I'm not going, Sarah." Jake stepped back, giving her all the room in the world. Not important? How could she dismiss everything he felt so casually? "I'm not going until I'm ready to. And I'm not ready."
"You don't have any say-so." Her face empty of anger, passion, love, empty of everything except a distant sadness, she shrugged as she said, "I'll have Buck draw up whatever legal papers it takes to keep you away."
Jake didn't think she could be that merciless, but just the thought of being kept away from her and Nicholas crucified him. "You do that, Sarah," he said, knowing he was digging his own grave but not knowing what else to do, "and I'll be out of here with Nicholas so fast it'll make your head swim." He gripped her tightly.
"You wouldn't!"
j
"Sweetheart, I'm the guy that sneaked the kid out on fake
papers. If you go to Buck, you'll never see Nicholas again.
I can hide anywhere I want to. I'm the kind of guy you can't
trust, remember?" Acid ate at his stomach. "I don't think you could do that to me or to Nicholas." "Maybe not." He hooked his thumbs onto his pockets.
"But are you willing to bet on it?"
Chapter Ten
Ividing
home in the truck down the dark, rain-slick highway, Sarah held Nicholas in her lap while rage and confusion battled in her. She couldn't stop touching him and regretting all the lost years. She brushed his funny little ears and recognized now they were just like Buck's at that age. No wonder she'd kept thinking about her lost son. Every time she'd looked at Nicholas, he'd stirred her subcon-' scious. No wonder she'd thought she was losing her mind. But now he was in her arms, for real, not just in dreams.
An unapproachable Jake drove carefully, his thoughts hidden. Tiny snores bubbled up from Nicholas, and Sarab leaned against the door so that he could stretch out.
At the midway Buck had returned with Nicholas, registered the tension and left at Sarah's urging. His dark red eyebrows lifted in question. At the shake of her head, he'd shrugged and mouthed, "Call me."
An intimidating presence, Jake said nothing, merely stared at Buck with narrowed eyes in an otherwise expressionless face. He didn't keep her from talking with Buck,
■
but Sarah wasn't ready to challenge Jake and risk his disappearing with Nicholas.
Now, the miles sliding by, Sarah pictured herself tied on an old-time cartoon bomb with its lit fuse fizzing closer and closer.
With her son held close to her, though, she was determined to control events. Into a silence thick with submerged emotions, she finally spoke. "I don't want Nicholas to know about all this tonight. He's too tired. Let me know before you tell him anything."
Jake slanted a look at her. "Fair enough."
"And don't go off alone with him." Her voice wavered despite her best efforts. The thought of once again losing him was unbearable.
The truck sped up before dropping back to the speed limit. Jake's expression never changed.
"I mean it, Jake." Anger clipped her words.
"You planning to stay up all night, every night, Sarah? Or bell me like a cat so you'll kno
w any time I move?" His fingers curled tightly around the wheel. "Lots of luck, sweetheart. If I decided to disappear, believe me, I wouldn't leave a trace. That's the advantage of having no ties or roots."
"Jake," she gasped, turning to him.
At her strangled sound, he continued. "Of course, you might try to get in touch with the companies I've consulted for, but since I've only worked for them on an as-needed basis, you won't get much information." His lips tightened. "So you'd be up a creek without the proverbial paddle if you push me." Headlights from an approaching car splashed across his taut face. Darkness again as he continued. "Don't push me, Sarah."
"In other words, not one living soul on this planet would miss you if you disappeared in a puff of smoke?" She believed him. She knew his history.
a 1 -
That's about it." Slapping the turn signal on, he punctuated his words with its clickety-clicking. "I told you the gloves were off, sweetheart."
4 'So you did." Sarah heard his harsh breathing and turned away. "Don't go off alone, Jake. I won't tell you again." The lines were drawn.
Sarah carried in "F. Roggie" while Jake carted Nicholas upstairs. She wanted to insist that Nicholas sleep with her, but one look at Jake's tightly controlled face stifled the words.
Nicholas squalled. Jake was patient. Nicholas yelled. Jake turned him upside down and wheelbarrow-walked him to the bathroom. Moving fast, Jake peeled off Nicholas's muddy jeans while Nicholas giggled. The two of them disappeared into the cloud of steam boiling out of the bathroom.
Sarah heard splashing sounds, towels flapping, Nicholas sighing. When he came out, flushed and half asleep, he clung to a towel-wrapped Jake.
The pink-and-white striped bath towel should have looked ridiculous slung around Jake's lean hips. It didn't. The small boy cradled in his arms should have looked out of place. Yet nothing had ever looked so right. Jake's chest was made for cuddling small boys—and big girls—Sarah thought. Dark hair angled to the frivolous towel knotted at his navel.
Had things been different she might have strolled boldly up to him, winked, slid her finger to the knot and tested its reliability. The dull throb of longing would die, though, soon enough.
"Sorry, this was all I could find."
"No problem," Sarah said through a constricted throat. The muscles under Jake's ribs twisted with his movement and Sarah resented him for still being able to make her ache for him.
"I want Sarah to tell me a story," Nicholas yawned. "In her room."
"Come on, sport, let's just go to bed. I'll tell you a story, okay?" Jake strode to the bedroom, his calves flexing and sleeking down to the high arch of his feet.
Beautiful feet, Sarah thought, like his hands. Dressed, Jake was all bulk. Stripped, his body showed smooth, coiling strength and muscle, perfectly shaped and proportioned.
"Want Sarah."
At Nicholas's words, Jake's eyes burned on her. Her skin flushed with the heat flaring through her.
"Whatever you want, sport." Jake settled Nicholas under the sheets in her room, and, turning to go, spoke. "Sarah—"
"Not now."
He inhaled. "You sure?"
"Yes. Not tonight. Whatever it is will wait until tomorrow. We'll deal with it tomorrow. Go to bed, Jake."
Tension reached out to her from him, from his broad, bare chest, from the ridged planes of his face. For a moment she wondered if she could make him leave, if his determination would bend in the face of her insistence.
"Your decision," he finally said, sliding his palm down over the light switch and leaving them in the muted light from the hall.
Sarah felt the slow glide of his palm as though it were moving over her throat. She swallowed. She hadn't expected this—this wanting —to survive after what he'd done to her.
"G'night, Jake."
"Sleep tight, sport."
Jake's wide back blocked the light and Sarah saw his shoulders slump before straightening. He left the door partially open behind him and his feet thudded softly on the carpet.
The smell of Nicholas, warm and soapy, rose to Sarah in the silence. Cuddled next to her, he watched her with sleepy
blue eyes. Her eyes. "Tell me a story about when you were a kid."
"Well, a long, long time ago, in a faraway place—"
"Like space?"
"A more magical place where a small blue-eyed boy—"
"Like me?"
"Just like you, honey, just the same."
Nicholas's eyes drifted shut. Lightly, lightly, Sarah touched his eyelids. Silky still.
She'd been cheated of so much.
Sometime in the night, the frantic beating of her heart woke her and she looked up to see Jake leaning against the doorway. Nicholas slept against her, a small lump at her side.
Silence stretched between them, a living river flowing and touching, a current of longing and frustration.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
Like a wave, Jake's yearning undulated against her. Motionless, his shadow answered her. "You."
"I know." She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.
"It's not over, Sarah."
"Go to bed, Jake."
His shadow moved soundlessly down the hall, and Sarah heard the click of his bedroom door.
Sarah stared out the window into endless night. What was she going to do? How were they going to survive in a siege state? Eventually she drifted asleep, waking with each creaking sound, her heart banging against her ribs.
For the next four days, rain squalls blew in and out. In the afternoons a watery sun shone weakly through gray skies. Sarah and Jake maintained a polite distance, walking warily through the mine fields all around them. Sarah cancelled her fishing clients and stayed near Nicholas and Jake. She held on to her anger, nursing it, feeding it, hating the way she felt around Jake.
Habit eased them through the days although Sarah took to slamming cabinet doors and banging pots and pans. She shoved all the towels off the bathroom shelves, emptied the kitchen cabinets, poured a bottle of Lysol in a bucket and worked until she was so tired she could drop. She couldn't sleep.
She yanked off the dining-room wallpaper, making Nicholas roar with laughter as flakes of powdery glue and backing showered them. Nicholas lifted the long strips up and trailed them around over his head, billowed them across the dining table, and crowed that this was neat stuff.
Sarah couldn't eat.
Nights she wandered down to the kitchen and heated milk. All she had to show for her effort was scorched pans. She didn't know what she wanted.
She couldn't understand Jake. What had made him think he had the right to play with all their lives the way he had? Why couldn't he see what a terrible thing he'd set in motion?
The questions drove her from bed to the kitchen and back, and still she couldn't sleep or forgive.
Jake watched her all the time just as she watched him. Nothing showed on his blank face. She knew when he was around, no matter how quietly he approached. No need to bell him, not with her nerve endings alive to his presence.
She and Nicholas were building a leaf boat to float in the puddles that lined the driveway, and Jake was taking advantage of the sunshine to paint the porch. He'd crashed a can of white paint down on the kitchen table that morning and hadn't said anything. The swish of his brush against the old wood counterpointed Nicholas's chatter.
Picking up another small leaf, she jabbed the twig through it, anchoring it to the larger bottom leaf. "Here, Nicholas. See if it floats, okay?" She touched the tender column at the back of his neck. So fragile.
Hurling himself off the top step, he collapsed in a heap. He sprang up and then ran in long, swerving loops down the driveway to the biggest puddle. Sarah smiled.
Leaning back against the stoop, she surprised Jake with his mask down. The paint brush stilled as he met her eyes, and small white drops plopped onto the floor.
The loneliness that had always pulled at her was a naked hunger. Once again he was the
wolf prowling on the outskirts, and her heart softened fleetingly before she looked down at the crushed leaf in her hand. She brushed her hands clean and cleared her throat. Maybe she'd go sail boats with Nicholas.
She never thought of him as Robbie. Robbie was the baby who haunted her dreams. The Nicholas whose energy propelled him and her through the awkward days was the child of her heart and present. Her child would always be Nicholas to her now, never again Robbie. She stood up. The wooden steps creaked.
Jake tapped the rim of the can with his brush. "Sarah, I'm going to tell Nicholas today. Do you want to be there?" The bristles shh-shhed on the can as he worked out excess paint.
Did she? Which would be easier for Nicholas? "Let me think about it." She rubbed the sole of her sneakers against the edge of the step. "Tell me something, will you, Jake?"
"All right." His smooth strokes spread gleaming white paint over the faded boards he'd already scraped.
Needing to see his reaction, she faced him. "If you could do it all over, would you handle things differently?" Hurt and confusion dragged the question from her.
Jake dipped the brush in, loading it with glossy paint, tapping it on the rim, before he answered. "No."
"I see." His answer hurt more than she'd expected.
He threw the brush down into the can. Paint sprayed up onto his jeans. "No, I don't think you do. All things being equal, Sarah, I'd do it exactly the same. I'd have to." He
grabbed the rag and scrubbed the floor. Looking up at her, he underlined his refusal. 'Tor Nicholas." He flung the rag away and went back to smoothing paint over weathered boards.
"So." She was halfway down the steps when he gripped her arm.
"Does all that righteous anger feel good, sweetheart? Are you enjoying it?" His chest heaved under his open work shirt. "Must be wonderful to be so absolutely sure that you're the injured party." He glared at her. Tiny flecks of white paint dotted his face and chest. His fingers were white-tipped and crackly with paint.
"Do I look as though I'm enjoying myself?" she spat. "I can't help asking myself what if. You know how it goes. What if you'd disliked me instead of been attracted to me? What if I'd taken to dulling my pain at night with a drink or two? Would you have kept my child from me, then? In all your arrogance would you have decided that I was unfit?" She gulped down the sour bile rising from her empty stomach.
Jake's child Page 15