Lie to Me (2 page)

Damian sucked in another deep breath. “No, you didn’t. Still, I have no legal rights to him.”

“I can grant you those rights. I hereby grant you those rights.” She tried to hold his gaze without feeling weak-kneed. She failed. “Miles has problems.”

He kept staring at her, raising goose bumps on her arms. “Tell me about these problems.”

“Gladly!” She thought about her ten-year-old son who had seen so much down to watching his father pack and leave when he’d been five years old, and had cried for weeks because daddy had been his hero. She could still remember Miles screaming, as she’d held him back, “Daddy, don’t go! Daddy!” As Damian had left the house, luggage in his hands, he hadn’t looked back. “Be a good boy, Miles. I love you.” Those had been his last words to his child.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? I’ve lost you.” He pulled her just an inch closer, until they almost touched. As he bent his head, a lock of soft hair brushed her forehead. “Tell me about my son.”

She tried to think about Miles and his problems as Damian’s hot breath heated her face. He smelled minty. Casey shut her eyes to block him out the best she could. “Miles’ behavior is deteriorating and he cries all the time.” She peeked, and he was still there, but once she’d started, she could finish. “Throws fits too. I’ve taken him to a psychiatrist and a therapist, but he hasn’t improved. He’s a complicated kid, different from his peers, and I just know he needs you.”
If you’d back up a little, I could clear my mind and explain better.
“He needs you,” she repeated, just above a whisper.

Damian’s eyes mocked himself. “He needs me like a hole in the head.” He hadn’t taken his hands off her shoulders and his raw testosterone threatened to drag her into his hard chest and flat stomach…

She controlled herself. “I don’t know. He won’t listen to me at all and doesn’t want to go to school, but won’t tell me why. I ran out of ideas so I thought maybe you could help.” She paused and felt herself glaring at him. “And he keeps saying he wishes he had a father.”

Damian shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and she wondered if he were uncomfortable, standing too long. In his near fatal motorcycle accident, he’d fractured his leg in eight places, causing doctors to wonder if he’d ever walk again. She knew, from Alex, that he still had pain.

“Do you want to sit down?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just tell me where I fit in here.” His mouth twisted. “I was a useless drunk, and Miles must remember. He probably means he wishes you’d marry somebody else to be his father.”

“You were useless.” She felt a swelling of anger. “Damian, you’re still his father, and he isn’t talking about anyone else.”

Damian turned his head, swearing under his breath.

“A classmate from school lost his father in Iraq.” Her anger fled.
What good would anger do?
“Since then, Miles has been acting up worse and talking about you nonstop. It’s so bad that even Sam understands why you had to come back.” She laughed in a sad way. “He understands, but he’s paranoid that you’ll gain favor with your father again and get half the mill when he retires. Sam wants it all, so he’s really upset—”

“Don’t change the subject, talking about Sam. Did you explain to Miles why I left?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Miles keeps a lot inside. I don’t know what he thinks of what I’ve told him. And what Alex has told him.”

“Alex didn’t tell me about Miles having problems,” Damian said to himself.

Casey could hear his guilt. He looked vulnerable and almost boyish, which touched her, although he didn’t deserve her sympathy.
If he’d only back up, so I can think, so that I don’t want to run my fingers down his face and kiss him. If he’d only let go of me, if only…

“Alex tries to shield those he loves,” she managed, pleased that her voice remained steady, “and he loves you, Damian. He didn’t believe how serious it was with Miles until our son had a raging tantrum right in front of him. After that, he finally told me how to contact you.”

They stood in silence for a moment and the flames roared again. She remembered how happy they’d been at first, and how proud Damian had been right after Miles was born. The out-of-control drinking had crept up on them. First, Damian would get drunk only certain weekends, and then every weekend; years later, it progressed to every night. His father, the owner of the Ballantine Paper Mill, which employed half the town, had fired him for coming to work drunk. The scandal had rocked the town. Shortly afterwards, Casey had thrown him out.

A year after Damian had left, Alex had come to her door with news that Damian had been in a serious motorcycle accident and may not live. Yes, he’d been drinking and he’d hit a stop sign, flipping over the bike. Casey had begged Alex take her to Damian’s bedside, but Alex wouldn’t tell her where he was, not even which state.

Her mind flashed back in time and she remembered her panic and despair. Alex’s words that night were committed to her memory, almost verbatim, like a nightmare one wanted to forget, but couldn’t. “The short time Damian regained consciousness, he made me promise not to tell anyone where he is. He wants you and Miles to know he loves you—that’s all I can say. I’m the only person his doctors are allowed to talk to.”

Casey still could still visualize the breakdown of Damian’s tall, powerful twin, the way his voice and body had trembled. “I just flew back in town because he doesn’t want me there. I’m doing everything he asks, hoping it eases the stress, and I just pray he lives.”

During Damian’s perilous medical situation, Alex updated her regularly on his status. She’d known when he’d been removed from the “critical” list. She’d heard about his surgeries and his brave struggle to walk again. She’d been told about his discharge, and that he’d stayed sober since his accident. Other than his health, Alex had kept all information about Damian to himself, as Damian had requested.

“You were a prick for dropping out of sight, and forcing Alex to keep your life a secret from me.” It just popped out, but she wasn’t sorry.

“Yes, I’m a prick. I know that.” He sounded disgusted with himself, and she suddenly lost the urge to castigate him further. They stood in place, staring at one another for a long time, or so it seemed. Tension hung in the air between them. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, their sexual attraction blasted from him to her like lightening; it was almost tangible.

“Can we talk about Miles, and not me?” Damian’s low voice broke the silence.

“What?” She had to shake her head to get rid of the fog.

“We agreed I’m a prick. What about Miles?”

Casey nodded at him, trying not to lose herself in him. “Right. Well, Miles wants to see you, but he’s an angry kid. I’m sure he won’t greet you with hugs and smiles.”

“I’m sure too.” He laughed without mirth, and, for some absurd reason, that made her want to kiss him more than ever. Even as he smiled, she saw sadness on his face. “I’m such a fool. I had it all and blew it. The drinking is in the past, but so is my relationship with Miles and you.”

She felt her body tingling. “You have another chance with Miles.”

“We’ll see. I can’t have another chance with you.”

Her heart thudded against her chest.

“At one time, we were so good together.” He shook his head. “Pity. Do you know what you still do to me?”

She should have pulled away from him, but didn’t. His sexual allure sucked her in. She stood motionless; feeling prickles of heat from his hands, the tiny space of air between them charged. “No other woman makes me senseless, like you do.”

God help her. She couldn’t hear this…not if he didn’t step back…

“I wish I hadn’t screwed everything up.”

This close to him, she forgot all the hard times. “You couldn’t help it. You were sick…”

He chuckled, his breath teasing her lips, and she heard his disdain. “Sick. Not exactly.”

“I spent…a lot of time at Al-Anon. Alcoholism is a disease.” “You’re too nice. Always were. It’s time to shut you up.” He lowered his head and kissed her. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck while her body leapt to life for the first time since she’d last felt his touch. Every cell inside of her screamed as she melted in the arms of this delicious man who’d fathered her child. His clever, hot, velvet tongue drank her up with an urgent thirst and she returned his famine, moaning into his mouth as he moaned back. He gripped her and slid one hand to the back of her head, gently massaging her hair.

Casey ran her heated palm along the rigid muscles of his back. Pressing her lithe body against his solid one, she felt his large, swollen cock thrusting hard against her area of pleasure. The years seemed to meld away and she was young again—nineteen and wildly attracted to the naughty Ballantine son. Casey felt like that horny kid, not the twenty-seven-year-old woman she’d become. Not one iota of their magic had disappeared. As her hand glided into his silky hair and her other to his rounded buttocks, his lips and tongue scorched her nape. She never ever wanted to leave his strong embrace again. Never, never, never…it was heavenly…

Damian pulled away from her with a sudden abruptness and she heard the word “no” escape her lips. When she saw the cause of his withdrawal, she gasped. A tall, dark, handsome man, with sharp, piercing, dark blue eyes, held a wide-eyed Damian by the front of his shirt. “I knew I should have come. I knew I couldn’t trust you alone with Casey, you asswipe!”

Damian recovered from his shock and let out a laugh. “That’s funny coming from my favorite shithead!”

Samson Ballantine pulled back his fist.

Casey jumped on Sam’s back, riding him to throw him off balance and keep him from hitting Damian. “Don’t bait him, Damian!” she cried out, wrapping her legs around Sam’s torso to solidify her grip. “Sam, please, you know he was in that accident! You’ll hurt him!”

“That’s the point.”

Damian’s eyes glittered, ice in them, his own fists balled. “Give it your best shot, big brother. You could never best me!” His athletic body coiled like a panther ready to strike. “Can’t believe I looked up to you when I was a kid.”

“You still should, loser!”

“We’ll see who the loser is!”

“No!” Casey tried to hang onto Sam, in spite of the slick material of his basketball jersey and shorts. “Stop! Both of you, stop! Sam, you promised not to show up!”

“You wouldn’t have told me where you were meeting him if I said I’d come. I need to give my baby bro the beating he so richly deserves. This is for Miles—”

Casey deliberately dug her long fingernails into his chest, cursing the material between her sharp claws and his flesh. “You’ll hurt him, Sam!” she said, digging her heels into his thighs. “You know about his injuries! “ She felt her hands starting to slide down his jersey.

“I’m completely healed,” Damian said, in a menacing voice.

Casey couldn’t hold on to Sam any longer and dropped to her feet. The moment she let go of Sam, he rushed at Damian and punched him in the jaw. Before Casey could react, Damian had stepped back and she saw his leg buckle a little and pain flash over his face.
Damn!

“Damian!” she cried out. Before she could reach him, he recovered, still pale, and managed to lean forward on his good leg and grab Sam by the shirt.

“I wouldn’t do that again.” Even as he winced, he leaned back, balled his fist and slugged Sam back. Both of them stared at one another, breathing hard.

“Stop!” Casey stepped in between them.

“We stopped,” Damian said, through clenched teeth.

Sam clenched and unclenched his fists, red in the face. “Yeah, it’s over. For now.”

The brothers both had blood on their lips, but neither seemed to notice.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Sam said, staring at Damian.

“Sam,” Casey cut in. “I asked him to.”

“Bad idea,” Sam said. “Drunken loser deserted his son! You don’t deserve to live! Too bad you didn’t die in the accident!”

“Sam, stop it!” Casey balled her own fists, ready to take a chance.

“Maybe I don’t deserve to live, but I did and I’ve improved my life. That life doesn’t include you in it.” Damian sounded furious. Casey put her palms against his heaving chest to calm him down.

In what felt like forever, Damian stepped away from Sam, turning his back to him.

“
Don’t underestimate me! That accident is long over, and I’m as strong as an ox!
” He wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Both of you are bleeding,” Casey said, her heart starting to slow down. With a frown, she reached for her purse and pulled out two perfumed handkerchiefs, one for each of them. Sam grabbed one out of her hand, winced at the smell, and then applied pressure to his lip, cursing.

Casey handed a handkerchief to Damian. He was still breathing hard, his sweat-drenched hair tumbling over his forehead. When he lifted his head to look at her, smiling, she let out an exasperated breath.

“Both of you are just lovely,” she mumbled, but she felt a pang for Damian. Sam hadn’t almost died in an accident. Damian had. She wondered why Sam hadn’t gone straight for his leg, but brushed the thought aside. She tried to tend to Damian, but he shook his head.

“I can take care of this,” he said.

“Right. I think this little meeting is over.” Casey hid how much the confrontation had scared her. Damian and Sam, all the Ballantines, in fact, were strapping athletes who could hold their own, but Damian’s bad leg frightened her. He probably didn’t appreciate her obvious concern for him, especially in front of his nemesis big brother. She tried sounding calm when she spoke again. “Damian, come by tonight at seven. I live above my mother’s music shop. It belongs to me now so Miles and I moved into the apartment upstairs.”

“You own that store?” Through his stuffed up nose, he sounded pleased and impressed.

“She’s bright. Why not?” Sam stared at him, his testosterone boiling over. He wanted more, not appreciating Damian besting him in the fight. He cared little that, unlike Damian, he still bled a lot.

“Sam, you need to take care of yourself,” she said, wondering if her words would help the situation, or make him feel he had to cause Damian to bleed as much as himself. Knowing that he liked her, she tried another tack, walked up to him, and took his hand. “I don’t like to see you like this. Can you go home and wash up? I’ll drop by the mill later today.”