Hideaway Cove (A Windfall Island Novel) (6 page)

“Jessi,” he said, nuzzling her neck, slipping his hands down the sexy outer curves of her breasts as the fire inside him burned through the leash he’d put on his desire. “Let me,” he began.

But when she nudged him back, he stopped pushing.

“Benji,” she said, and the fact that she had to clear her throat first, that she looked at him with dazed eyes, went a long way to making up for her presence of mind. “We have to be careful.”

He covered her hand, pressed it to his chest. “Tell me you mean what I think you mean.”

“Hold…” She stood and, although she’d eaten nothing, took her plate and glass into the kitchen.

Hold followed her, waited while she set her things down, and watched as her eyes filled with uncertainty and sorrow. Both ripped at him.

“My mother,” she began, “my mother was my hero. I know most people would say that about their father, but I was barely three when he died.”

“So even though you never knew your own daddy, you still missed him,” he interpreted. He kept his distance, although he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her.

“I missed the idea of him. And thank you for getting it.” Her gaze lifted to his, skipped away again. “But my mom—I miss her every day. There wasn’t anything we didn’t share—except when I…with Lance. I couldn’t tell her, maybe because I knew she’d be disappointed. She always told me to follow my heart, but looking back I realize it wasn’t my heart I was following. I knew it, even back then, on some level.”

“Do you think she’d disapprove of me?” Hold asked, and breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head.

“I’m sorry if I gave you that idea, Hold. I think my mother would love you.” She smiled. “Just like every other woman on this island.”

“Gossip again?” he said, although he had to stop his hands from fisting. “I’m getting a little tired of defending myself against a bunch of exaggerations and stories turned upside down to make it seem like I was the instigator when—”

“I get it, Hold. I’ve lived here all my life. You don’t have to tell me how stories get twisted.”

“But?”

She spread her hands. “Why me?”

He laughed softly. “Why not you, Jessica? Except for that bone-deep stubborn streak.”

“I don’t know. You’re…” She made a two-handed gesture that took him in from head to toe. “And I’m…me. Single mother, jeans and t-shirts, small-town.”

“You know what I see? A beautiful, incredible woman, who works too hard managing a business, taking care of everyone else, and believing she doesn’t deserve anything in return. You really need to cut yourself a break.”

“People keep telling me that,” she murmured.

“And let’s not downplay the way you fill out those jeans.” But he knew what she wanted to hear. Or at least he thought he did. “The minute I set eyes on you, Jess—”

“Don’t.” She whirled away from him, arms crossed, moving around the kitchen with all the energy of a small tornado.

Too bad it was such a small room—too bad for her. Hold put himself in her path, shifting when she tried to go around him, herding her back until he could box her in. And then he waited until she shifted her eyes, filled with temper and resentment, to his. “You’re going to listen to me, Jessica.”

“Fine, Mr. Abbot.” Her eyes shifted past him, and he knew she was checking to make sure Benji was still engrossed in SpongeBob. “Have your say, and then you’re going to leave.”

“Fine,” he bit off. But before he could even begin to order his thoughts, scattered by being so close to her, there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Benji announced. Through the kitchen archway Hold caught sight of the kid popping to his feet and running to the front door, just out of sight. “Mom,” he yelled a second later, “there’s another strange guy here.”

“I’m no stranger, kid,” a male voice floated back to the kitchen, “I’m your daddy.”

L
ance Proctor.

In the flesh. At her front door.

In a daze of pounding heart and spinning head, Jessi stared at him for what seemed like forever, felt herself transported back to the first time she’d seen him, really seen him, breathtakingly handsome and full of life. They’d grown up together, of course, known each other all their lives, and she’d always crushed on him a little. But what girl wouldn’t? What teenage girl could resist a tall, dark, and handsome boy, with a killer smile and a gleam of mischief in his eyes?

The miracle, she’d remembered, was that he’d noticed her at all when he could have had any girl in school.
And had
, she reminded herself. Looking back now she wondered if that hadn’t been the attraction she’d presented.

But the truth was, he’d been as eager for her as she’d been for him, and while he’d dated every girl in their age group, at least Jessi could content herself that once they’d become a couple, he’d stuck.

Until.

She bet he still set female hearts aflutter, not to mention a few male ones, wherever he went. He was still tall, still poetically handsome with his pale skin and fine bone structure, the dark hair worn just a little too long, begging to be brushed away from his brow.

He looked more…substantial now, though. He’d lost the skinny awkwardness of his teenage years, filled out to what looked to be a very healthy and well-tuned hundred and seventy pounds. He’d seen some tough times, though, she mused. His clothing showed wear at the stress points, and he carried an air of disappointment, of resignation, instead of the life-by-the-tail attitude he’d had when he left Windfall Island.

No, not the boy she’d known. But then, he couldn’t be seeing the girl he’d left behind, either.

She didn’t, for instance, buy into the sucker smile he gave her, the smile he’d used to finesse her into bed. The same smile he’d employed when he promised they’d be together for the rest of their lives.

That smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes, she noticed now. His eyes remained cool and measuring. Calculating. Those eyes never left her face, so she could see when he figured out the smile wasn’t working.

“You used to be faster on the uptake, Lance.”

“I know I’ve been gone a while,” he replied. His gaze lifted over her head, searched the stingy slice of living room he could see with her blocking the doorway.

She’d be damned if he found the new mark he was looking for.

She pulled her head back inside, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it, making herself meet Hold’s eyes. He took no pains to hide what he was feeling—anger, curiosity, frustration. “Could you—”

“Of course,” he said before she could finish the thought.

“Are you okay with Hold for a few minutes, Benj?” She didn’t need to see him nod, not when he was already easing over to tuck his hand into Hold’s.

Tears ached in the back of her throat. Nerves and stress, and the heartache of watching that little hand slip into the big one, knowing what was about to happen to her son’s world and that she was powerless to stop it, made a towering anger rise up in her. It darkened her vision, deepened her breathing, trembled her hands as she reached for the knob because she knew closing the front door wouldn’t stop anything. And because she wanted to confront him, to take him apart at the seams, to scream and strike and make him hurt—

Jessi stared down at her shaking hands, in shock at the violence inside her. If she’d had a weapon…But her hands were empty, thank God, and even if a part of her still wanted to watch Lance suffer, she knew that wouldn’t solve anything.

She slipped back outside, coatless, and pulled the door shut behind her.

“It’s cold,” he said.

“I’m not a moron, Lance.”

“I only meant we should go in.”

“No,” she said, then “no” again when he started to strip off his coat to, presumably, offer it to her.

As if a gesture of civility could erase the hurt he’d caused in the past, or prevent the pain he was about to inflict. “You can’t just show up at my door with no warning.”

“He’s my kid, too.”

“Biology doesn’t make you a father.”

Lance shrugged back into his coat, shoved buttons through buttonholes, his expression going sulky. “I think the courts would disagree with you.”

“Yeah? I think they’d start by asking where you’ve been since I was three months pregnant, and end with seven plus years of back child support.”

“Aw, come on, Jess, don’t be angry and bitter.”

“Bitter? Are you kidding me?” She jerked away when he reached for her. “You abandoned him; you left us both. You don’t just get to waltz in here like the last eight years never happened and make it out like I’m the bitch for not welcoming you with open arms.”

“You’re right.” He shoved his hands back through his dark, artlessly tumbled hair, and although he turned away, Jessi thought she caught a glimpse of real pain in his eyes. “I was young and stupid and…I don’t know, I panicked. Jesus, I was eighteen.”

“I was sixteen, and I couldn’t just walk away.”

“You wouldn’t have walked if you could.” He exhaled heavily. “I understood that, even then. You didn’t need me, Jess—”

“Now you’re blaming me?”

“No. Jeez, cut me a break. I was such a screw-up, but I knew you were the best thing that ever happened to me. And when you got pregnant, I freaked, sure, but I swear I wanted to marry you and raise our kid.”

“That didn’t last long. But then, you always did have a short attention span.”

“Not when it came to you. Remember how it was? Hell, Jess, we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. Like that time we parked at the other end of the island, back when the airport was just a bunch of deserted old cannery buildings. Old man Boatwright shined his flashlight in the back windows of my dad’s Buick, I jumped up, and he screamed like a girl.”

“And then he hauled you home with some made-up story about you skinny dipping.”

“But he let you go.”

Jessi felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “We were only necking.”

“If he’d found us ten minutes later…” Lance reached out, let one of her corkscrew curls wind around his finger. “I always loved your hair.”

Jessi tipped her head aside, then stepped back, shoving both hands back through her hair before she had to label the tingle she’d felt.

“I want to get to know him, Jess. You, too—”

“Don’t.”

This time Lance stepped back, and although she could see the frustration on his face, he didn’t push any more.

“I’m staying at my mother’s house,” he said. “I’ll let you set the pace, but I’m not leaving until…I want to make up for lost time.”

“Do you really think you can?”

“No.” He smiled, but it was wistful this time. Hopeful.

She didn’t buy Lance’s act for a second. But this wasn’t about her—not entirely, anyway. Benji had been waiting his entire life for his father to come back to Windfall Island.

If she turned Lance away, she’d become the bad guy.

“Give me time to talk to Benji.” But she already knew the time was for her, to get used to the idea of sharing her son with a man she didn’t trust. If Benji had his way, Lance would be inside already, and seven fatherless years wouldn’t mean a thing until…

Until.

Lance looked like he might argue over that, but she had to give him credit. He took a deep breath, let it out. “All right. Maybe when he gets to know me a little bit, we could spend some time together, just the two of us.”

“Your problem isn’t Benji not knowing you. It’s that I do.”

Lance’s jaw bunched, but he nodded stiffly. “I really do want to make it up to him, Jess. I’ve done a lot of traveling the last eight years—”

“Oh, your mother keeps me updated. I think she’s hoping you’ll come back here and settle down.” But not with her, Jessi acknowledged with a whole lot of relief. The last thing Joyce wanted was an outspoken, no-nonsense daughter-in-law she couldn’t cow. “You shouldn’t let her keep believing that.”

“I wish…” Lance looked away, shook his head.

Jessi was on her guard. Still, she had to admit he looked so damned sincere.

“My mom says you don’t date at all.”

Okay, maybe Joyce didn’t have any intentions, Jessi thought. Maybe she’d told him that out of some twisted sense of satisfaction, but she’d misjudged her audience.

“I think she takes it as a sign that you’re waiting for me to come back,” Lance finished.

“You should take it as a sign I don’t trust anymore.”

“What about the guy you’re having dinner with? Do you trust him?”

Jessi stepped back, ranged herself in front of the door. “He’s none of your business.”

“You left him alone with my kid. They must be pretty chummy.”

“Careful, Lance.”

His gaze shifted to hers, and whatever she thought she’d seen in his eyes was gone. She saw only regret, sincerity, and a slight flush to his cheeks. Lance might be good, but no one could control their blush response, and the heat in his cheeks bespoke…jealousy?

Then he flashed her that smile of his, and she told herself she was an idiot for thinking, for one minute, that he wanted her back again.

“I’m sorry, Jessi.”

“Give yourself a minute. It’ll pass.”

“I guess I deserve that.”

“But?”

“I’ll find a way to convince you I’m on the level.”

Jessi left him standing there, barely registering when she shut the front door behind her and Hold enveloped her in the crocheted throw from the back of the sofa. She wanted to collapse, burrow in, shut out. To stay numb. The pain would crash over her soon enough—the anger, the betrayal, the welter of memories, and all the shattered hopes and dreams. Now, all she could seem to feel was fear. For Benji.

She leaned back against the door, her eyes going to her son where he sat, an assortment of superheroes and plastic army men scattered on the table in front of him. Watching her.

How did she tell him, she wondered, panicking a little at the thought? How did she tell Benji his father had returned, knowing Lance wouldn’t be the fantasy Benji had built in his mind?

“I thought maybe if I could get Benji to play, do something normal…” Hold spread his hands, then shoved them in his pockets. “What did he want?”

Jessi’s gaze shifted back to Benji.

“You don’t believe he’s sincere, do you?”

She kept her voice down, as Hold had done. “No, but—”

“You have history with him.”

She rubbed at her temple, where a headache had begun to brew. “I have a son with him.”

“That doesn’t change who he is.”

“No, but does that mean he’ll treat Benji badly?”

“He left you both, Jessi.”

“I remember. I was there.” And when Benji jumped at her raised voice, she nearly lost her battle with the tears she’d been holding back. “Benji deserves to make his own judgment where his father is concerned.”

“You’re protecting him from me, but—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jessi warned. “It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not the same. He can hurt Benji more.”

She went to the door, opened it and held it for Hold. “I don’t need you to tell me what kind of risk I’m taking.”

He stepped outside, turned back to her. “He’s not giving you much of a choice.”

“Lance will do whatever he can to get what he wants, no matter how long it takes.”

“He’ll try to wear you down, you mean.”

She smiled faintly. “Remind you of anyone?”

“Mom?”

Jessi left her back against the door, just another second or two, before she found the strength to straighten and move to the table.

She picked up a plastic figure of Spiderman and slid him into a pile of army men, sending them skittering and jumping across the table.

Benji reached out reflexively, caught one of the army men before it fell over the edge. He laid it carefully on the table, watching her face just as carefully. “Was that my dad?”

Words wouldn’t pass her tear-clogged throat, so Jessi nodded.

“Why didn’t he come in?”

“I—” she stopped, swallowed a couple of times, and her voice cleared as she spoke. “I asked him to wait. I wanted a chance to talk to you first.”

“About what?”

“About what you want.”

“Oh.” Benji chose a superhero, just held it.

“It’s such a surprise, Benj. I just want you to have some time to get used to the idea.”

“Grandma told me he was coming.”

“Joyce…” Jessi clamped her mouth shut, said through her teeth, “When?”

Benji did the one-shouldered shrug he’d learned from his Auntie Maggie. “Last weekend when she took me out to lunch. She told me not to tell because it would only upset you.”

And now the surge of anger distilled itself down to a cold, blue flame.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I was gonna tell you, but I forgot.”

“It’s okay, Benj. It was all the way last weekend.” She folded her hands together so tightly they ached. The pain helped her focus, to remember who mattered most in this unbelievable situation. “There are going to be some rules.”

Benji’s eyes, when they met hers, were wide and filled with hope. “I can see my dad?”

“He’s your dad,” Jessi said simply. “You should get to know him.”

“When?” Benji demanded, on his knees in his chair, bouncing. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday—”

“And you have a birthday party.”

“But—”

Jessi held up a hand. “Like I said, there are going to be rules. One of them is you won’t break any commitments you’ve already made. But I’ll get in touch with him, and as long as he agrees I’ll see if he has some time on Monday.”

Benji shot both fists up in the air and jumped out of his chair. He raced around the room shouting at the top of his lungs while her heart broke into small, jagged pieces.

Jessi logically understood that Benji’s excitement over his father took nothing away from her. She tried not to let the hurt show, but he must have seen it because Benji came over and threw his arms around her. “Love you, Mom,” he said.

She gathered him up and hugged him close, breathed in the scent of clean sweat and soap. And even as she held him, she let him go. He wasn’t
her
little boy anymore.