Dr. Seuss story unfolded. It was long. Much too long for this late at night. Cal knew that. Obviously, Caleb didn’t. Still, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt just this once for her son to stay up late.
A burning ache took residence where her heart used to live. What was she going to do? Judging by Cal’s occasional giggle, he was enraptured by the guest in their home. To find out Caleb was his father—what would that do to him? Would her son be ecstatic? Or bitter over what she’d done?
Why was a selfish part of her wanting Cal not to fall in love with his father? Why was she so afraid of losing not just her son, but Caleb all over again? Lying to him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, yet she’d had to protect her son.
You didn’t do this out of some saintly desire to shelter your son—our son—from pain. You were protecting yourself.
Sliding her fingers into the hair at her temples, Allie groaned.
Damn him.
Damn Caleb for his uncanny knack of always knowing just what she was thinking. But that didn’t change anything.
Okay, so yes, maybe all those years ago she’d been more terrified of forging a life with Caleb and then losing him, than she’d been afraid for her unborn child. But now, seeing how attached Cal had become to his father in under twenty-four hours, how could she not be afraid of the wreckage that could quite possibly become of Cal’s heart?
Look at their current situation. Dangerous as hell. Caleb could be shot and hurt—God forbid, killed—at any moment. Every day he actually looked forward to putting himself in danger. It didn’t make sense.
And speaking of danger, the man was as charming as ever. She’d once fallen for him. Hard. Not that she fostered any current feelings for him. Just that—
“Oh, hey,” Caleb said, startling her as he stepped outside Cal’s room. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”
“No.”
“Cal asleep?”
Nodding, he chuckled. “Took him long enough. For a minute there, I thought I might have to slip him a mickey.” He winked. “You, on the other hand, had no trouble falling asleep. Seeing you curled up on the sofa…It brought back memories.”
“Good, I hope.”
“Most.”
Turning her back on him, heading to her room, she said, “Guess we should call it a day.” She flicked on the overhead light—a modern chandelier.
“Nice,” he said, hot on her trail, shrinking the once generously sized room. “You always did have a flair for decorating.”
“Thanks.” The money she’d spent had been her reward for having to sleep in there alone. The ultramodern acrylic canopy bed with its sheer white curtains was a floating cloud, complete with downy white sheets, comforter and pillows. She’d done the floor in dramatic black granite. Half the walls were white, the others bamboo-green. Aside from a few original botanical watercolors, all oversized and abstract, the room had few adornments.
Clutter made her crazy.
Not because it bothered her, but because Caleb had been renowned for his clutter, and she didn’t want to be reminded of him. One look into her son’s sage green eyes was painful enough.
“It is a little cold in here, though.” He shot her a sexy-slow grin. “Needs paperbacks and newspapers. Definitely a few good flea market finds.”
Arms crossed, she asked, “Am I in so much danger I need a marshal in my bedroom?”
He reddened, tipped an imaginary hat. “Sorry, ma’am. I forgot my manners.”
“It’s okay this once,” she said, trying not to smile at his antics, but having a tough time. He’d always been a big fan of the old west, right down to adopting a truly awful fake cowboy accent. Guess he hadn’t lost his touch. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Will do,” he said with another gorgeous grin. “Seriously, you all right? You know, about this afternoon?”
She shrugged. Slipping off black leather heels, she headed for her walk-in closet, switching on the light.
From the bedroom came the swish of blinds being drawn on the wall of windows overlooking the backyard and Cascades range beyond. “You gotta be more careful,” he said. “Until this whole mess is over, I recommend keeping all the curtains and blinds closed.”
“Thanks.” She emerged from the closet wearing white flannel pj’s and her favorite white robe.
“Sure.”
He reached out to her.
She flinched from his anticipated touch.
“Geez, Allie, all I was trying to do was get that chunk of hair from your collar. You know how you were always getting it stuck.”
“Please, don’t,” she said, biting her lower lip.
“What?”
“Try ingratiating yourself by dredging up old memories. Yes, Caleb, we share a past, but that doesn’t mean we share a future.”
He snorted. “Ah, hate to interrupt your pretty speech, but there’s a boy in there with my DNA who sorta says different. Our futures are intimately entwined.”
“You’re not playing fair.” She gripped the clear acrylic bedpost, squeezing till the square edge dug into her palm. “No one’s denying Cal’s your son. All I asked for was time to digest all this. You showing up here out of the blue.”
“Oh—like nine years hasn’t already been long enough for you to devise a way to tell a son obviously needing a dad that he just so happens to have one?”
“What are you intimating? That I’m a bad mom?”
“Not at all. Just that you’re not a dad. Did you know your expert knitter’s being made fun of at school because he’s lousy at sports? When’s the last time you had him out playing catch or at a batting cage?”
“Stop,” she said. “You’re coming across like a sexist pig. Besides knitting, Cal takes art lessons. He’s a highly skilled artist for his age. His teacher’s quite impressed.”
“Great.” Caleb laughed. “Tell that to Billy Stubbs. He’ll beat our poor kid to a pulp.” Shaking his head, Caleb left the room.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie whisper-shouted, chasing him down the hall and stairs. “And who’s Billy Stubbs?”
“Ask your son.”
WELL, OBVIOUSLY, Allie wasn’t going to wake Cal to ask, so she’d planned on asking first thing in the morning. But a storm and power outage during the night had messed up her alarm and she’d overslept, leaving her with barely enough time to ask Cal what he wanted for breakfast, let alone who this Billy Stubbs was!
And could someone please tell her, with six grown, highly capable men outside, all
