A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (29 page)

“Yes. Very delicious.”

He stood at the door as if there were a wire stretched across the opening.

“Come in, check out the balcony. I have orange juice—would you like some?”

“Have you seen Jake?”

There it was—that tone that skewered into her heart. The nervous waver that said more than words could. Jake was Dylan’s tie to life here.

When Dylan had tapped on her cheek that morning to wake her, it had taken a moment to realize who he was and where she was. She hadn’t been sure if she was relieved or bothered by the fact that Jake had left the bed, left the room—left her with his charge. Herding Dylan down for breakfast and having Sabrina take Dylan out to get eggs from the chickens had given her a chance to regroup. If
she
was feeling thrown, she could only imagine how Jake felt. But neither of them faced what Dylan did.

“Want to go find him?” She held out her hand. She might not be able to help the kids of Dominia right then, but she could help Dylan.

Dylan took her to the back of the barn to show her the chickens and to feed them some scraps he’d brought from the kitchen. He remembered all six of the hens’ names. She bent to feed Rhodie Red. And heard Brigitte’s voice waft over the top of the nearest stall. Cameron froze, unsure what to do. Brigitte was propositioning Jake. What if the scene played out as X-rated as her flying imagination already had it zooming toward?

“That’s a mighty great offer,” she heard Jake say. “And in my former life I would’ve gladly taken you up on it,” he added. “But I have a child to tend to. I’m sure you understand. Got to focus.”

“I’m not a
child
,” Dylan protested from behind the hay bale. “I’m six.”

Before Cameron could argue with him, Brigitte came storming out of the barn.

She waved a hand in the air when she saw Cameron. “Good luck with that one. Too high a wall for me to scale. Even for the pleasure of spending quality time with a body like that.”

Dylan popped out from behind the hay bale where he’d been feeding the chickens.

“Well, hello, young man,” Brigitte said in a sweeter voice.

“See?” Dylan said. “I’m not a child.
She
knows.”

Brigitte laughed. “I’m thinking I know less and less every day. Especially about the males of our species.” She cast Cameron a wry smile and strode back toward the castle.

“She has a funny accent.”

“She’s French. Let’s go see Jake.”

Cameron hoped Dylan wouldn’t question the content of what had just passed between Brigitte and her.

“Jake!” Dylan launched himself at Jake as they entered the barn stall.

Jake lifted him like he weighed no more than a sack of grain. “Careful, buddy. You’ll spook the horses.”

Jake nodded to Cameron. “Good morning.”

Only two words, but what a potent response they stirred. Was it the way he looked at her when he said them? Was it the scent of him that still lingered on her body from her time in his bed? Was it the way he smiled at Dylan and then cast the same devastating smile at her? Whatever the force compelling her, she wanted to kiss him, even though she knew that rekindling that fire would be a really, really stupid move.

Jake held Dylan close to the horse. “Would you like to sit on this one?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes.”

Jake sat him in the saddle, keeping a steady hand on his waist.

“Have you ever been on a horse?”

Dylan nodded. He looked quite small on the sixteen-hand thoroughbred.

“This is called a mane.”

“I
know
that part,” Dylan said. He leaned forward and patted the gelding’s neck and then ran his fingers through its mane.

Jake flashed another smile at Cameron. And she could no longer resist or ignore the facts screaming at her. Seeing him with Dylan drove all the messages her heart had been trying to send to her roosting home.

Under all his flash and shine, Jake was a regular guy, a real man with heart. He might be a star athlete with a world-class reputation, but he wasn’t in any way the shiny type of man her mother had chased all her life.

“Well, maybe you could help me brush him?” Jake said as he lifted Dylan from the saddle and set him on his feet.

“I want to ride one, like in the movies.”

“These are big animals. They need to know you, and you need to get to know their habits and quirks. You’ll have to wait until you can learn more about them.”

Dylan pulled the first face of protest Cameron had seen on him. Maybe he was feeling a bit more secure.

Dimitri walked into the stall and tousled Dylan’s hair. “
Waiting
isn’t one of my strong suits either.” He squatted down to Dylan’s eye level. “I’m headed over to the coast. Want to come along for that trip we talked about at breakfast?”

“Yeah!” He looked to Jake, his face beaming. “I mean, if it’s okay?”

Jake hesitated and then shrugged. “Sure.”

Cameron didn’t miss the terseness of his tone.

“Let’s go.” Dimitri turned to Cameron. “Want to join us? You’d be welcome too, Jake.” He started to leave before they even answered. “Oh, and about that other thing... I’ve been thinking. My father’s flying to London next week, some Buckingham Palace party—diplomats and all that. I’d love to have you as my guest for the long weekend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Cameron pointed at the two of them heading away. “You know, you could make a big difference in his life,” she told Jake.

“Dimitri’s?” Jake’s teasing smile didn’t hide the irritated look in his eyes.

He began brushing down the sleek horse. His powerful, confident strokes and the ripple of muscles across his back sent energy precisely to the region of Cameron’s body that she was trying to ignore.

“I’m serious. Dylan needs someone like you.”

Jake’s stroke wavered. “I have a career that takes me away from home for more than half the year. And when I’m home, half of the time I have night games.”

“Matt did it with Sophie.”

“Matt has Alana.”

“He didn’t, not at first.”

Jake’s hand froze, midstroke. “Like I said, I know my limitations. I know when I hit a wall. Maybe my sister can raise him.”

“I thought you said your sister was a career woman.”

“She is.”

“What if the limitation is the real thing calling you? The path forward?”

“Not for me.”

“You won’t know till you reach the other side. You can’t just shut down on something this important.”

“I know what’s important to me. Baseball.”

“And what about when you’re in your forties?” She was pushing hard. The trembling in her belly told her she might be pushing too far. But she had to know. “What about when you can’t play the game anymore? What then?”

“You ever ask yourself that question? About when Hollywood turns to younger actresses and leaves you in the dust?”

“
You
have—staring you in the face—exactly what I want. I want a family.” She’d never said it so starkly out loud. “With a great kid or two like Dylan.”

The brush clattered to the stone floor. Jake whirled to face her. Before she could take a breath, he pulled her into his arms and crushed her mouth with his, flooding her senses. The trembling in her limbs didn’t stop when he released her.

“It’s too bad we want different things, Miss Kelley.”

He picked up the brush and resumed brushing down the thoroughbred. As if the kiss hadn’t even happened.

Her first impulse was to run, but she’d had enough of running. “You can’t just kiss me and then go back to brushing a horse! Who do you think you are?”

“I have a real good idea who I am. It’s you who seem to be confused.”

He didn’t look up as she left the stall.

The trembling in her chest ramped up as she approached the castle. She wouldn’t let Jake Ryder run off with her heart. Nope, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t.

But as she crossed the drawbridge, her honest streak made her admit that he already had.

Jake’s lips throbbed, along with the rest of his body. His loud curse alarmed Alex’s horse.

“Easy there, boy.” He smoothed his hand along the gelding’s flanks. “You’re not the only one spooked.” The taunting taste of Cameron on his lips might never leave his memory. Might haunt him to his grave.

He shouldn’t have kissed her.

But Dimitri had riled him. Between controlling his urge to punch the cocky prince and tell him to keep his hands off Dylan and the more uncontrollable urge to throw Cameron over his shoulder and carry her up to his bed, kissing her had slid its way through his defenses. He’d wanted that kiss. He’d wanted more.

He removed the saddle and stroked the thoroughbred’s back with the curry comb.

Was his real limitation not having the courage to
not
know? Was he afraid of not being in control of every aspect of his life, afraid of pushing beyond the horizon of what he thought was possible? Hell, he’d gone beyond limits in the game. Knew he could do that when he had to. But a kid? No way. And Cameron? She wanted a life he couldn’t, wouldn’t, lead.

A gray thought floated through his already cloudy mind. Maybe a guy like Dimitri would be better for Dylan. A guy who didn’t have a job pulling on his time. A guy who could give the kid any life he wanted. But the idea had no more than formed than he thought about Peter. Peter wouldn’t want some princely lifestyle for his kid. Or would he? Who knew what people really wanted for their kids?

He tossed hay into a stall, spread it with a rake. His head ached from all the thinking and from trying not to think. He headed inside to call his parents again. Deep down he suspected that having Dylan in her life would help his mother put to rest some of the grief that had weighed her down since Peter’s death. But nothing in Jake’s life had prepared him for how to break such news.

He called from the landline in Alex’s office. His mother answered on the second ring.

As gently as he could, he filled her in. She asked that he read her the letter, but he didn’t have it with him.

“I’ll fly to San Francisco tomorrow,” she said. There was no mistaking the thrill of happiness in her voice.

“No. Finish your trip. You can fly out the week after New Year’s.”

The phone connection buzzed with the silence that followed his words.

“Does he look like Peter?”

He heard the tightness in her throat.

“The spitting image.” He paused. Truth. It was time for the truth. “I don’t think I can do this, Mom. It wouldn’t be fair to Dylan. Not with my lifestyle, the game, the—”

“Oh, honey, you always underestimate your talents. It’s just one more thing to love about you. We’ll help you. I still think I should come tomorrow.”

“No. Mom, he’s had enough new people for a few days. I’ll see you on January fourth. I’ll pick you up at SFO, and you can get to know him.”

She was quiet again, so Jake said, “You’ll love him. He’s Peter’s son, Mom, but he’s his own guy too. Know what I mean?”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He waited as she blew her nose. “And, Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Life dishes out what we need to become who we’re meant to be.”

“You’ve been hanging around Rome too long, Mom.” Or reading fortune cookies again.

She laughed. “Your dad is going to want to move out there. We’ll help. We can take Dylan if you decide you can’t handle him, but Peter would have wanted you to take him. You know he would have. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

His mother never made promises.

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”

“Get that boy a present. Get him a couple from us. And just take it one day at a time, you hear? And don’t pull any of your shenanigans.”

She was sniffling again. Jake wanted to both laugh and cry at the sound of her trying to hide her tears.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

What did she think he would do? He had to admit his thrill-seeking lifestyle had probably worried her more than she’d ever let on. But he realized she hadn’t let him off the hook. He ran the conversation back in his head. His
mother
—the person who knew him best in the world next to Peter—thought he could raise Dylan? Maybe Italy had softened her brain.

He could make it until after New Year’s.

And then? Hell, he was having a hard time thinking past getting through another evening at Trovare.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jake drove into Petaluma. Sabrina had given him the address of a toy store. And a bookstore. And a store for kids clothes. It was all he could do to keep her from coming with him to shop for Dylan. But he didn’t want to answer questions. The truth was, he didn’t want to think. But when he faced shelves and shelves of toys, he wished he’d brought her along.

“Can I help you?” The clerk looked to be no more than fifteen herself. He was getting to be a terrible judge of age.

“I need presents for a six-year-old.”

“Boy or girl?”

Right. “Boy.”

“Birthday or Christmas?”

“Christmas.”

“Does he like science or is he more of the video game sort?”

So much for not having to answer questions.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to get Dylan started on video games.