Authors: Rachel Brimble,Geri Krotow,Callie Endicott
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Series, #Harlequin Superromance
You owe me some time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine. Scott.
Carrie closed her eyes as the corridor walls drew in on her until she thought she would scream out loud.
* * *
S
COTT
SAT
AT
his kitchen table, frustration curling his hands tighter on his coffee mug. Any man who ran his own business, paid mortgage payments on a three-bedroom detached house and owned a car, as well as his beloved bike, should be able to have a quiet cup of coffee with some good eggs while he contemplated his day ahead. Well, that was no more the case the morning after he learned he was father to a two-year-old little girl than it was any other day.
He glowered over the rim of his coffee cup. Once again, his three sisters had turned up uninvited, kissed their mother at her seemingly permanent position at the stove and then taken seats at his table waiting to be fed. The loud, and too often brash, tirade of conversation bounced from the walls and Scott squirmed as the hardened veneer that sealed in his frustration threatened to splinter.
Once again, the pressure of his familial obligation rose hot and heavy in his chest, burning and clawing at his need to escape. He worked hard and as he earned more money, he planned to be free of the responsibility his absent father had dumped in his lap years before. He planned to help his mother and youngest sister get their own places so he’d have his solitude back. He planned to employ someone else to manage the garage so he’d be free to travel the world, if and when he chose to do so.
Now it was possible that he was a father. The responsibilities had just gotten a whole lot worse.
He curled his fingers tighter around the handle of his coffee cup. A father. The simple fact was, if what Carrie said was true, it was his own fault. They’d made love once with a condom; the second time protection had been the last thing on his mind in his eagerness to have her. He couldn’t remember her injecting any sanity or responsibility into the moment, either...
He closed his eyes as the noise and his sisters’ presence clawed at his nerves. He took a gulp of his coffee and glared at each of them in turn.
As much as he hated it, the perpetual feeling of suffocation gathered strength. He didn’t want his mother or sisters to change. He loved them and adored the unbreakable bond they held with each other—and him. Yet today, more than ever, he felt like a fraud.
The resentment he harbored toward his father fought its way to the surface. He had to find a way to separate himself once and for all from the man who sired him.
All the effort he’d put into not getting involved, not hurting a woman when she might want more than he could give...and now this.
A father to a baby conceived in the week he’d never forgotten...with the woman he’d never forgotten. How could he deny the suffocation didn’t ease every time Carrie looked at him since she came back? She must be telling him the truth about the baby. She had no reason to lie. There was a little girl out there who’d never known him as he’d never known her.
His mind turned to his last break-up...or rather, to the woman’s son. He liked the boy; had probably grown too attached seeing he had zero intention of settling down. No matter how much Scott told himself he finished the relationship because of the kid’s mother, he couldn’t ignore her accusations and criticisms. Amanda had made it perfectly clear she thought him no better a man to look after her son than she did the boy’s absent father.
A sense of failure dried his throat. Maybe she had a point...but where the hell did that leave him if Carrie’s daughter was his?
He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Another ten minutes and he’d leave to go to the hotel and pick up Carrie.
“So it’s true, then?”
Scott snapped his head up at his eldest sister’s voice. He met Bianca’s intelligent gaze. “What is?”
As if joined by an invisible wavelength when one spoke, his other sisters, Ella and Lucy, stopped babbling, their faces swinging between Bianca and him like they watched a damn tennis match.
Smiling smugly, Bianca stole a rasher of bacon from the plate on the counter, ignoring her mother when she jabbed the back of her daughter’s hand with a fork. “I saw Nick at The Oceanside last night. He asked me if you’re okay.”
Goddamn it, Nick. You know my sisters better than to ask them that
. He shrugged. “So?”
Bianca’s smile widened. “So, why would he ask that?”
“Didn’t you ask him?”
Her smile faltered.
Scott grinned. “He wouldn’t tell you, right?”
She scowled. “Fine. Don’t tell us, then. See if your sisters care if your face looks like it’s been steamrolled and you’ve got black trash bags stuck under your eyes. If you don’t want to tell us—”
“I don’t.” He stood sharply and the chair legs screeched against the terracotta tiles.
Silence descended.
Scott steadfastly met four pairs of narrowed, almost identical blue eyes and lifted his chin. “I’m going to work.”
His mother’s wise and far too inquisitive gaze held his and his detachment wavered. His mother’s heart was his weakness; her happiness the major pull at his conscience. Was he looking at a woman who was now a grandmother?
She stared a moment longer before nodding curtly and clapping succinctly three times. “Girls, go.” She held her arms wide, the fork she’d prodded into Bianca’s hand now swapped for a spatula. Grease steadily dripped from it onto the floor. “Breakfast’s over.”
Cursing inwardly, Scott lowered onto his chair. If he walked out now, his mother was likely to slap him up the side of the head with that spatula. One by one his sisters rose from the table, glancing at their brother, curiosity etched on their pretty faces. None of them argued; none of them risked her mother’s wrath.
He smiled softly, his temper cooling as laughter tickled his throat. There was nothing any of them could stand more than being out of the loop on the prospect of some juicy gossip. To add fuel to their already raging snoopiness, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers. “See you later, gorgeous sisters. Don’t work too hard.”
The tension hummed as bags were whipped from chairs and files picked up from kitchen counters. Slowly, his sisters left the kitchen and filed down his narrow hallway to the front door. When it slammed, Scott let his shoulders slump and faced his mother. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She walked across the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot and a mug. “We need to talk.”
He stared at the woman he loved more than any other, his heart turning over. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to tell her about Carrie right then and there. Get it over and done with so he didn’t have to bear the burden alone, but to do that, without knowing for sure what Carrie said was true and the little girl she told him existed was even his, would be selfish.
He had to be sure Belle was real and he was her daddy before he made his mother the happiest woman on earth. A grandchild. He couldn’t think of anything that would fill her soul more perfectly.
“I’m ready whenever you are.” She sat in the chair beside him and filled her cup before topping off his. The glass pot clattered against the earthenware stand in the center of the table. She held her cup between her fingers in front of her, her gaze concerned.
He exhaled. “I met a blast from the past yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“A woman.”
His mother slowly put her cup down and leaned forward on her elbows. “And?”
“And it’s shot me through a loop.”
Suspicion darkened her gaze as she frowned. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”
“She’s not your average woman. She’s...she’s someone I cared for too much, too fast.”
His mother narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Go on.”
He shifted in his seat, indecision about how much to tell her about Carrie rippling through him. How could he explain what she meant to him when he didn’t understand it himself? How could he describe the gnawing anxiety deep in his gut that kept him awake half the night? Or how the need to kiss and touch Carrie still burned just as strong yesterday as it had before?
Closing his eyes, he fought the impending headache pulsing at his temples. “We hooked up and she left. I never expected to see her again. Now she’s here and—”
“There’s every possibility you’re going to care too much, too fast again?” His mother smiled and took his hand in hers. “Is that such a bad thing? You’ve built a good life, sweetheart. You deserve to find someone special to share it with. Don’t you want to get married? Have babies?”
Scott opened his eyes, his gut tightening. “Mum—”
She laughed. “What? Is that so bad?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then talk to me.”
Guilt wrenched like a hook in his chest. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet. You, Bianca, Ella and Lucy are what’s important right now.”
His mother arched an eyebrow. “And there’s not room for anything more in your life? That’s silly, Scott. Worse, as a mother, it makes me feel entirely responsible. Have we made you feel you can’t have your own life? That you have to be on call to us twenty-four-seven?”
He closed his eyes. Making his mother feel bad was the very last thing he wanted.
God damn it. This is coming out all wrong.
He opened his eyes and squeezed her hand. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. What I mean is—”
“You deserve someone, Scottie. The girls and I appreciate everything you’ve done for us...especially since your father left. But—”
“This isn’t about him.”
“Of course it is. You’ve looked after us for too long. You were so young when you took responsibility for this family.” She smiled and lifted her hand to his chin. “It should be your time now. Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”
The truth of her words gnawed like dog’s teeth in his heart and he slowly drew her hand from his face. “I’m fine.” He planted his hands on the table, preparing to lever up from the chair when his mother gripped his wrist.
“Who is she?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Their gazes locked, but he stood firm under her scrutiny. Their brief conversation had heightened his impatience to see Carrie. When the time came to tell his mother everything, he needed to know what he told her was accurate and true. It was imperative he had all the answers she’d need if she was grandma to a child she never knew existed.
“Scottie?”
“Mmm?”
“How come I didn’t know about this mystery woman when she was here the first time? There’s not much you can hide from me...” Comprehension lit his mother’s gaze. “Ah, unless...”
Scott frowned. “Unless what?”
“It was her, wasn’t it? She was the reason you changed overnight a few years ago. One minute you were going about your business and working hard, the next you were brooding over something none of us knew anything about and was tetchy as can be.”
“I was not tetchy—”
“You were...just like you are now.” She shook her head. “Didn’t I ask you straight if a woman was messing with your heart?”
Scott stood. “Whether she is or isn’t, I’m not going to let that happen.”
“Good, because I don’t want you carrying on, growling and grumping your way through one woman after another like you did back then.” She shoved back her seat and snatched their cups from the table.
“I did not—”
“You did.” The crockery clattered as she placed them in the steel sink. “Do you know how many women came around here fussing and fawning over your sisters and me as though we were the way to get you to notice them?” She planted her hands on her hips. “If you like this woman, I hope to God you get on with it and she has the backbone to deal with you the right way this time.”
The irritation simmering in his gut veered to outright annoyance. “And which way is that?”
“With gumption. You’re a hard man to keep satisfied. You might be a man who’s looked after his family and hasn’t run off like your good-for-nothing father, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need a strong woman beside you to keep your feet under the table.” She waved her hand in the air. “These soppy, fawning, batting-eyelashes, good-for-nothing girls I’ve seen you with so far aren’t worth the polish on your boots.”
“Well, that’s good to know because she’s different. I can guarantee you that.”
“She is, huh?” His mother’s eyes piqued with interest, her tone softening. “I like her already.”
Scott scowled. “Believe me, the thought of you and her in the same room is as appealing as stepping in front of a moving train right now. She’s strong, beautiful and undoubtedly a match for you and my damn sisters.” He snatched his keys from the kitchen counter. “I’ll see you later.”
He planted a firm kiss to her cheek and left the kitchen, ignoring her knowing smile. He stormed through the hallway, whipped his jacket from the banister at the bottom of the stairs and his helmet from the beneath the coat rack. He opened the front door and slammed it behind him, gratefully inhaling lungfuls of cold, biting air. The day’s weather was the antithesis of the day before. Bright sunshine filled a clear blue sky. Not a single cloud marred its perfection, causing the temperature to plummet another few degrees.
An interrogation from his mother was the last thing he needed, but it should’ve been expected. Worse, she now knew far more than he was comfortable with...which undoubtedly meant his sisters soon would, too. Cursing, Scott drew Carrie’s business card from his back pocket and stared at the italic scrawl for the hundredth time since last night.
Producer.
He clenched his jaw.
Did she think his life was a movie she could direct as she saw fit? Did she come back to Templeton expecting a happily-ever-after regardless of whose lives she changed beyond recognition? He slid the card back into his pocket and straddled his bike. If she did, she was going to get the surprise of her life, because he hadn’t played the role of provider for so long only to get trapped again without knowing the truth. All of it. He buckled his helmet, gunned the powerful engine and accelerated toward town.
CHAPTER FIVE
C
ARRIE
GLANCED
AT
her watch as she paced the length of her hotel room. A fitful night had left her a mess of nerves and trepidation. How could she have let Scott get close enough to kiss her yesterday? To say she was disappointed in herself was the understatement of the year. She’d gotten off the train determined not to be the same woman she was when she’d been in Templeton the last time.
Yet she hadn’t stopped the kiss.... God, she’d wanted more of it.
This couldn’t happen; she couldn’t let him get to her physically as he had before. But hadn’t it been her, and not him, who’d deepened the kiss and pressed her body closer? Carrie covered her face with her hands and groaned aloud into the room.
Her nerve endings had sizzled awake; the memory of the contact making her stomach flip-flop and libido soar.
She snatched her hands from her face and glared out of the window. She’d come back to Templeton because she needed to own what happened between her and Scott. For better or worse, she wanted to move on. The guilt of keeping him from Belle had dug a slow and gaping hole in her marriage that she’d tried to ignore. Yet, Gerard never once held it against her that he wasn’t Belle’s father. All that time, she’d wanted the courage to face her truth and stand tall and proud, regardless of her child being conceived through a brief love affair. Why couldn’t she have done that when Gerard was alive? She closed her eyes.
Because the prospect of seeing Scott, of telling him about Belle had frightened her beyond reason. How could she have guaranteed she’d keep her marriage vows and want to return to Gerard’s safe stability, if Scott rocked that recklessness inside her again?
The powerful emotion and attraction she felt the moment he walked into the bar had been profound. She hadn’t wanted something so intense and complicated in her life, so she’d convinced herself Scott wouldn’t want the pressure of a baby.
Even if Gerard had wanted Scott to know about Belle in the hope that it would allay some of Carrie’s guilt about keeping Belle a secret from him, would Scott have just walked away? She doubted it. One look in the man’s eyes and his sense of possession was clear. She’d been right to keep him out of their lives so Gerard could enjoy Belle being his and his alone.
Tears blurred the busy high street below as she gripped the windowsill. Now Gerard was dead and it was her responsibility to set the record straight.
She whirled away from the window and swiped at her face. Scott had the power to make her lose her mind and throw caution to the wind. How could that possibly be the right thing for Belle? Yet, she had to find a way of making this work if she was ever to be free to live authentically. Belle had the right to know her father.
Carrie pushed her fingers into her temples. More than anything she sought stability and security for Belle...and she would never find that in a guy who carried off black leather, denim and a permanent five o’clock shadow like he belonged on the cover of GQ. She toyed with her wedding band, hating the undeniable awareness and thoughts rushing through her mind. She was calm, professional and focused in every aspect of her life. Just once she’d acted on instinct rather than intelligence, and it had resulted in the mess she was in now.
She was thankful for Belle, but that’s where the joy of her impulse three years ago ended. The fear, anxiety, uncertainty and foolishness Scott drew out in Carrie had made her life harder than it ever would’ve been if she hadn’t met him.
She walked to the bed and snatched up Belle’s toy dog. Pressing it to her face, Carrie inhaled deeply. It was one of her daughter’s well-loved toys, and Carrie had carefully packed it in case of emergencies like the one she was enduring right now. She closed her eyes and filled her heart with Belle. Second by second, her tenacity and spirit gathered strength.
This is about my child, god damn it.
Her cell phone rang on the bedside table, making Carrie jump. She rushed to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Carrie’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Mum. Hi.”
“How are you feeling? You didn’t sound yourself last night.”
“Tired, but okay. I’m due to meet Scott downstairs in—” she glanced at her watch, her stomach knotting “—ten minutes.”
“Okay, well, I just wanted to wish you luck...and advise you to keep an open mind to whatever he says. It’s important you hear him out or you’ll come home without feeling any better about the future.”
Carrie swallowed. “I know, and I will.”
“Good, because from the way you sounded when you called last night, the man clearly rattled you yesterday. Don’t let him badger or intimidate you. You were both there back then.”
“I know.” She looked toward the window. “It’s no surprise he doesn’t immediately believe Belle is his under the circumstances.”
“He said that?”
The disdain in her mother’s voice was expected...and as far as Carrie was concerned, unwarranted. “Mum, I don’t dislike him for asking the question.”
“I do.”
“He doesn’t know me. How is he supposed to know I wouldn’t lie for my own gain?” She exhaled. “I haven’t exactly got a great track record as far as he’s concerned, do I? I left and didn’t look back, found out I was pregnant and didn’t tell him.”
“Fine, he might not trust you, but you have reason to be wary of him, too. He’s a stranger you’re considering bringing into Belle’s life. As far as I’m concerned, he has to earn that right regardless of what happened before.
“I could easily be there with you, you know. I could leave Belle with your father and be there in the morning.”
Carrie smiled. “I’m a big girl, Mum. It’s Christmas, and I want you to be with Belle.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Carrie blinked back the tears as desperation to be with Belle brought an ache to her heart. She sighed. “I really thought he’d want nothing to do with me or Belle, but he was—” the confusion that burned blue-hot in Scott’s gaze filled her mind’s eye “—adamant I stay and meet with him today. I naively thought I’d be on the first train out of here by now. Instead, I’m scared to death he’ll say more I don’t want to hear.” The nerves that had ebbed and flowed through her since dawn grew worse. “He’s...complicated.”
“And so are you. You can do this, sweetheart. You’re in charge here, okay?”
Am I? I certainly didn’t act like it when we kissed
. She swallowed. “I’d better go.”
“Okay. Call me later?”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Her mother hung up and Carrie snapped her cell phone shut. She slowly inhaled in a bid to calm her racing heart as trepidation about seeing Scott resurfaced. If she lowered her defenses in even the smallest of ways, she couldn’t say for sure it wouldn’t be easy for him to take her, possess her and drive her to oblivion and back as quickly as he had the first time.
Guilt slithered over her shoulders. Gerard had taught her about real, enduring love and not a burning passion that surely would be impossible to sustain. She placed Belle’s dog on the bed and snatched her purse from the dresser, dropping her phone inside. Belle was hers, and when they lost Gerard, Carrie had closed an airtight cocoon around her daughter, wanting nothing or nobody to ever cause her pain or fear. Until she knew more about Scott, she wouldn’t risk him being near her baby. Part of her was angry at letting him close enough that they kissed...another part horribly ashamed by the hurt in his eyes.
With a final glance around the room, Carrie made for the door. She marched along the corridor and pressed the button for the elevator. If Scott wanted to be a part of Belle’s life, she would learn to live with that, but that couldn’t happen until her attraction cooled enough for her to see him clearly. More important, trust him entirely.
The elevator door whispered open and Carrie smiled at the attendant. “Lobby, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The elevator descended and Carrie turned to the mirrored wall beside her. She fussed with her hair and clothes, her hands trembling. She and Scott had to set some ground rules. She could kick herself for not being mentally and emotionally prepared for his paternity question, but that was in the past. Now more than ever before she was determined to cement the way forward and would willingly do a DNA test if that’s what he wanted.
When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Carrie nodded her thanks to the attendant and pulled on her confidence like an extra coat. Scott might have slipped under her armor, but that didn’t mean she was any less willing to do battle.
If Scott became a part of Belle’s life, she would smile when he came to visit and block her nose to his musky, masculine scent that drifted so easily into her nostrils and struck at her femininity. Her bruised and battered heart still grieved for a man who treated her like a queen and Belle like a princess. She couldn’t bear another loss of someone she loved...whether that be by death or betrayal.
Leaving the hotel, she looked left and right down the street before glancing at her watch. Nine-fifteen. He was late. She swallowed...or maybe he wasn’t coming. Carrie narrowed her eyes. This would be his one and only chance. If he didn’t show, she would leave Templeton and go back to her life without him.
A gruff, thundering and powerful motorbike approached far too close to where she stood and Carrie stepped back. She hated bikes with a passion. Gerard was killed on a death trap much like the one rumbling to a halt barely a foot away from her. The rider straddled the machine like it was an extension of his damn anatomy.
She crossed her arms.
He cut the engine and Carrie scowled. He lifted his helmet. The too-long, jet-black hair that should’ve been deemed messy rather than sexy caused her stomach to drop.
No. Please God, no.
“Good morning.” Scott’s eyes shone bright, his smile wide. “Your helmet’s in the box so there’s no need to look so worried. You’ll love riding once you’ve tried it.”
“You think this is funny?”
His smile wavered. “What’s wrong?”
Gathering her wits as shock turned to anger, Carrie strode toward him and fought the temptation to kick the damn bike with the point of her stiletto. “My husband was killed on one of those things. You’re unbelievable.”
His smile vanished and he swung from the bike in one fluid motion, his arms outstretched as he came toward her in two easy strides, his gaze apologetic. “How was I supposed to know that?”
Carrie waited as the seconds beat out between them and the cold winter air that blew along the street whipped into a sudden frenzy. She gripped the hair that swept across her face, opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. “I don’t know, but God damn it, I don’t want that thing anywhere near me.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, and when he exhaled, a puff of breath danced in front of his mouth. He bounced his helmet against his denim-clad thigh a few times before he looked up. She stared in fascination as his eyes cooled from ice-blue to midnight blue, soft with regret. He raised his hands in surrender. “The bike’s out of here, okay? I’ll go park it across the road and we can walk wherever it is you want to go. Deal?”
Her stomach knotted with something hard and fast and deep that she didn’t want to contemplate. His consideration was genuine, which unfortunately struck another hole in her weakening defenses. “Yes. Thank you.”
He smiled softly, his gaze running like a caress over her face. “Good.”
Turning, he approached his bike and Carrie released her held breath. He stowed his helmet in its carrier, tossed her another apologetic smile and kicked the bike off its stand. Frozen, she stared after him as he waited for the road to clear before he wheeled his bike toward the parking lot on the other side as though it weighed little more than a tricycle.
She abhorred bikes and speed and danger. Everything about Scott represented exactly what she wanted to avoid, but there was no denying she’d been unfair snapping at him the way she did. Swallowing her pride, she shook her head.
Idiot woman.
When he came back, she’d apologize and endeavor to shake off her constant inability to prevent her mouth from running at ninety miles an hour whenever something unnerved her. Animosity between her and Scott could only be detrimental to Belle. She had to do her best to give Belle her father. She and Scott had covered little ground, and it was four days before Christmas. All of a sudden, she wanted nothing more than to be at home holding her baby.
Carrie stared across the street, simultaneously willing Scott closer and wanting to delay his return.
Any fool who looked into eyes as telling as Scott Walker’s could see he had understanding and pride. Worse, Carrie sensed an innate dependability, which was ridiculous and disconcerting, considering how little she knew about him.
Pulling back her shoulders, she forced a smile when he stopped in front of her. “Thanks for abandoning the bike. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You had no way of knowing how my husband was killed.”
His gaze lingered a moment at her lips, before he nodded. “Apology accepted.” He gestured along the street. “Shall we?”
Carrie nodded. “Sure.”
They fell into step side-by-side, and Carrie was instantly too aware of his height and stature. She stared resolutely forward, ignoring the rush of attraction that washed over her once again.
After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “I meant what I said yesterday. I’ve not shared with anyone else what I shared with you.”
She swallowed, her heart pumping.
Why is he going there?
“Whether or not that’s true—”
“It’s true.” His gaze pinned hers.
“Fine, but yesterday when you kissed me—”
“It was a moment of madness, and entirely my fault. It won’t happen again...unless you want it to.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “I won’t.”
Yeah, right.
He smiled. “Fine, but there’s nothing about three years ago...or yesterday, that I regret.” His voice was low and somber. “What I’ll regret is if we can’t talk today.”
Her shoulders slumped as the tension left her body. “Same here.”