anymore, okay?”
She stared at him, more tears damming up, and the look in her eyes almost did him in. Disconnecting from the feelings rising up in him, he gave her hands another squeeze, prompting an answer. “Okay?”
She managed a wobbly smile and nodded, and he rewarded her effort with a smile of his own. “Okay.” He gave her hands another reassuring little shake, then released her. Leaning back in his chair, he scrutinized her. “How much sleep have you had in the past couple of weeks?”
Some of the old Abby resurfaced. She managed an almost real smile. “Good grief, Conner. Don’t you know anything? No one sleeps when you’re lost in the swamp and up to your armpits in alligators.”
He rewarded her effort with a soft chuckle, then he stood up. “Well, I’m here to drain the swamp, lady. So go to bed and get some sleep.”
“I can’t. The kids are home early from school today, and…”
Conner broke his self-imposed rule for the second time that day. He grasped her hand, pulled her to her feet, then pushed her toward the front foyer and the stairs. “Damn it,” he said, trying to sound as if he meant it, “don’t start arguing with me already, Abigail. For the rest of the day, I’m the boss.”
She turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him, a faint glimmer appearing in her eyes. “All right. I’ll give you today, Calhoun. But tomorrow is mine, and don’t you forget it.” Catching him totally by surprise, she gripped his arm, then stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Conner,” she whispered unevenly. Then she turned and went up the stairs, and Conner watched her go, his lungs suddenly so tight it was impossible to get air into them.
A rush of emotion jammed up in his chest, and he anchored his hand on the heavy oak newel post. God help him, he had to keep his head on straight. And he had to do right by her. Because, in the end, that was all he could ever give her.
Beginning to feel the effects of a sleepless night, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself another coffee, then went out and stood on the raised deck, staring out over the expensively designed landscape. Right now a half-hour nap would do wonders, but he knew he’d never sleep with her trapped in his head. Clamping his jaw shut, he forced himself to concentrate on other things, like how he was going to get her out of this pickle without walking all over that damned pride of hers. But he really didn’t have a whole lot of options. Yeah, Abigail Allistair had put on a brave face, and she didn’t expect anyone to bail her out, but he could tell that she was damned near at the end of her rope. There was no way he could walk off and leave her in this mess. So that gave him only one alternative. He was stepping in whether she liked it or not. And it was too damned bad if he tramped on her pride.
His expression set, he went back into the house. For his own peace of mind, he needed to check on her—she was just too eaten up by stress and strain, and far too thin for his liking.
The master bedroom door was ajar, and Conner pushed it open with one finger. She was curled up on the bed, very soundly asleep, her hands tucked under her face. Resting his shoulder against the door frame, he hooked his thumb in the front pocket of his jeans, his expression fixed as he watched her sleep. She was far too thin, but what bothered him more than anything was that her special effervescence was gone—that rare kind of energy that could light up a whole room. It was as if her bright spirit had been extinguished, and she just looked so fragile. He’d give anything if he had the right to hold her, to wrap her up and keep her safe.
Ever since she’d appeared that long-ago Christmas, she had been his still center, and in spite of the emptiness in his life, he wouldn’t know what to do without her there. Just knowing she was alive fortified him somehow.
Abby stirred, curling up tighter, and Conner suspected she was cold. Careful not to make a sound, he went into the room, picked up a throw off the wing chair by the bed, then carefully covered her with it. Some of her hair had come loose from the ponytail, and he very gently lifted the strands away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. His throat cramping up, he let his hand linger just a moment—just a brief, perfect moment before he tucked the cover under her chin. Feeling as if he’d just got punched in the gut, he turned and left the room, soundlessly pulling the door shut behind him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, uneven breath. He had let himself get far too close. But it wasn’t nearly close enough.
Chapter 3
It was a little after two in the afternoon when the small yellow school bus pulled up in the Calhoun driveway, a private school logo on the side. Conner, who had been sitting on the wide steps waiting for its arrival, stood up as the bus pulled to a halt. The door opened and a dark-haired boy shot out, throwing his backpack in the air. “Uncle Conner! Hey!”
Cody launched himself at his uncle, and Conner laughed and swept him up, having just enough time to give him a hug before catching the angel-eyed little girl who practically jumped into his arms. “Uncle Conner! Uncle Conner! Thith is a big thurprith!”
Laughing at their antics and Sarah’s lisp, Conner managed to wave to the bus driver, the tangle of arms around his neck nearly strangling him. “Hey, buckaroos. How are you doing?”
Sarah gave him a huge hug. “We’re doing fine, Uncle Conner. How are you doing?”
“Well I’m doing fine, too, angel.” He went over to where Cody had dumped his backpack and bent over, the two kids still clinging to him. “How about snagging that bag, Tiger.”
Leaning over in his uncle’s arm, the boy did as he was asked, then straightened and looked at his uncle, his deep blue eyes dark with anxiety. Conner did what he could to reassure his nephew. He winked and smiled at him. “We’ll talk later, okay, Chucker?”
The boy managed a smile. “Okay.”
Grasping Conner’s face, Sarah turned him to look at her. “Where ith my mom?” she demanded.
Amused by his niece’s imperious tone, he hitched her higher. As Jake would say, there were no flies on this one—nope, Little Miss Calhoun was a handful of the first order. He gave her a solemn look. “I sold her to a bunch of trolls.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “What trolls?”
“He’s pulling your leg, Sarah,” interjected her brother, sounding disgusted. “Dontcha know anything?”
Sarah lifted her chin and gave her brother a haughty look. “I know loths of things.”
Deciding that with these two it was no wonder Abby was worn out, Conner tried not to smile as he climbed the steps. He reached the door. “Let’s try to be quiet, okay. Just in case your mom is still asleep.”
They entered quietly, closing the door without making a sound; then Conner packed them both through the big foyer to the kitchen. He set them down on the big work island. Sarah gave him a fierce hug, then squirmed toward the edge. “I hafta go to the bathroom, Uncle Conner.”
He swung her down and watched her leave the room, then he turned back to his nephew. His gaze was solemn when he spoke. “You did the right thing calling me, Cody,” he said, his tone quiet. “And I’m going to stick around and help your mom get things straightened away.”
Cody looked up at his uncle, his gaze still anxious. “Did you tell her I called you?”
Conner smoothed down the boy’s tousled curly hair. “Yeah, I
