Secrets of Paternity (9 page)

Still, she needed to know the man who would hold a starring role in her son's life.

And she had to eat, didn't she?

“W
here have you been?” Kevin demanded from the top of the stairs when James and Caryn returned from dinner later.

“We got a bite to eat,” James said easily, before Caryn jumped into the fray and an argument ensued. Everyone was tense enough already, and Kevin's tone of voice indicated his readiness to let off some steam.

“You didn't leave me a note,” he said, glaring at his mother.

“I figured we'd be back before you knew we were gone,” Caryn said, moving past him. “How'd the interview go?”

James saw him relax, the abrupt change typical of a teenager.

“I got the job.”

“Honey, that's wonderful!”

“Yeah. I'll just be doing stuff like cleaning up, but they'll give me more to do as I prove myself. I start tomorrow. I'll be working a lot of nights, and if nothing much is happening, I can do homework.” He looked at James. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome. I use that range, so I'll probably run into you now and then.”

“You carry?”

“I was a bounty hunter for twenty years. I'm a P.I. now. What do you think?”

“I figure you don't trust anyone.”

“Pretty close.” They moved into the living room and were seated. He'd intended to just drop Caryn off and leave, but he didn't want to lose the opportunity to spend time with both of them. “How'd you do on going through your father's papers?”

“I can't believe how much crap he saved. I don't think he threw out anything.”

“So, it's going to take you a while to sort it?”

“Yeah. Especially now that I've got a job, too. But I'll get it done,” he added in a rush. “You don't need to do anything.”

“I hadn't planned on offering.”

“Okay. Well, I'm trying to put it in piles as I go. I think a lot of it can be tossed. He even saved utility bills from when he and Mom first got married. Crazy.”

“I'm going to get a glass of water,” Caryn said, standing. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

James and Kevin shook their heads. James knew his unspoken assignment. He and Caryn had talked about it over plates of spaghetti and meatballs. He was supposed to ask about Venus. He waited until Caryn was out of sight, then he leaned forward and said quietly, “So, what's with you and Venus? Got something going?”

Kevin didn't answer. James figured he'd made a huge tactical error, which Kevin then confirmed. He leaned back, crossing an ankle over a thigh. “That's really none of your business, is it?”

How could he backpedal out of this one? “No. Not at all. I just noticed something between you and was curious.”

For a moment Kevin looked as if he would give in and ask a question, then he changed his mind. “Actually, Emmaline gave me some hints.”

So much for getting closer to the boy. At least his mother had. One step in the right direction.

“Venus did ask about you, though,” Kevin said.

“Asked what?”

Caryn returned with her water.

“She wanted to know how long ago Mom and you had dated, 'cause she didn't think Mom had dated at all since Dad died.”

James studied Caryn, whose expression gave away nothing.

“What did you tell her?” Caryn asked.

“Nothing.”

“Good,” Caryn said. “Because all I told her was that I'd dated James a couple of times right after we moved here but that it hadn't worked out. I didn't meet Venus until she was hired at GGC, a month ago.”

“I did sorta let it slip that you're a P.I.,” he added.

“Why did you do that?” Caryn asked. “You shouldn't have—”

“It's okay,” James interrupted. “It doesn't matter.” It did matter, but he didn't need Kevin feeling guilty about it. Like most people, Kevin found James's occupation fascinating. James didn't blame him for letting it spill to Venus.

He decided it was time to leave. “I think I'll head home,” he said, standing.

Caryn stopped him. “I was hoping you could tell us about how you knew Paul.”

She'd asked him at dinner, but they had decided to include Kevin in the conversation. “Okay, sure.” He sat. “We met in high school. We played football together. I can't say we were best friends—we ran with different crowds most of the time—but we got along. We became better friends when we started college and found we were both criminal justice majors. Like you,” James added with a smile at Kevin.

“Except my dad didn't do anything with his degree.”

“What are your plans?”

“I don't know for sure. Cop, maybe. Lawyer. Who knows?”

A P.I., perhaps?
James didn't ask the question. “In March of our sophomore year, my father's best friend was arrested for attempted murder. My dad believed his friend, also a cop, was innocent, that he'd been set up. Dad posted bail and secured it with his own house as collateral. The guy skipped. It was pretty humiliating for my dad, not to mention what it did to him financially.”

“You went after the guy,” Kevin said, as if knowing exactly how James felt at the time—angry for his father.

“Yeah. And I talked your dad into going with me, although it didn't really take much talking. We didn't tell our families what we were doing. Stupid.” He shook his head at the memory. “But that's what we were, young and stupid. We made huge, amateur mistakes, except that we did locate him after two weeks of hunting him. Trouble was, this guy was not only smarter and more experienced than us, of course, he had more motivation for not being caught.”

“He really was guilty of the attempted murder?” Kevin asked.

“Yes. And only sorry that he hadn't been successful.”

“You and Paul didn't call anyone when you located him, did you,” Caryn said, certainty in her voice. “Not your dad. Not the local police. You went after him yourself.”

“We figured we could handle him. Two against one. You know. The invincibility of youth.”

“And the felon had years of cop training behind him,” she said, guessing. “And probably a gun.”

James nodded. “I went after him first, and got shot in the shoulder. Paul lunged. He knocked the gun away. They fought. During the fight—” James looked at Caryn, then straight at Kevin “—your dad took a blow to the crotch.”

“He was shot…there?” Horror filled Kevin's eyes and voice.

“Not shot. Guy kicked him, with steel-toed boots. Still Paul managed to knock him out before passing out from the pain. I tied the guy up with our belts, then called the cops. We were in Nevada, which complicated everything. There was the extradition back to California, not to mention how much trouble we were in from our parents and the local authorities and the San Francisco authorities
and
the bounty hunter sent to find the guy. He would've, too, within the hour.”

“So,” Caryn said carefully, “you gave your sperm as payback for him helping you?”

“Because the injury he received caused bleeding, which resulted in permanent damage to the sperm production mechanism—and because it was my fault he was there to begin with. He never told you that?”

“He only said he was infertile.”

“Too much information,” Kevin said, putting his hands over his ears, shoving himself up. “I gotta go.”

He flew down the stairs. The door shut with a solid thud. A long silence ensued. “Maybe we should've talked first, after all,” James said. “You could've told me what to tell and what not to.”

“He needed to hear it. I hope knowing how headstrong you and Paul were, and the results, will make him think twice before he takes any chances himself.”

“Yet you don't want to tell him the truth about Paul's gambling.”

“That's different.” She stared toward the stairway. “I forgot to ask more about his visit with your mother.”

“I stopped by to see her before I came here. She said they had a terrific time together, that Kevin was ‘very sweet.'”

“He's a good kid, most of the time. Listen, James, I need to ask your opinion on something.”

Yes, I think you're pretty. Yes, I'd like to kiss you again. Hold you again.
“What's that?”

“I didn't give Kevin every box of paperwork. I have three that are filled with the most incriminating files. I'm not sure what to do with them.”

“I'll look through them, if you don't mind, then we can talk about whether to include Kevin. I'll pick them up tomorrow night, since he'll be working. You can let me know.” He stood. “By the way, Caryn, I don't think you have to worry about Kevin and Venus as yet.”

“Really?”

“He implies not.”

“That's enough to make you believe it?”

“For now.” He headed to the staircase, because he
wanted to stay. “And you don't have to walk me to the door,” he added when she stood, too.

She followed him anyway, at least to the top of the stairs. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Not sure if you want me in your son's life?”

“I'm sure. He needs you. I see that.”

“Not sure about yourself?”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“What would you say?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

He smiled. “You surprise me a lot, Mysterious.”

“Good.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, to her red lips. “Is it easier for you to call me than for me to call you?”

“Probably. If you answer your cell phone, no matter what, because I never know when I'll be given a break.”

“It's rare that I can't answer it, but it happens.”

“I'll try, then.”

She'd lost that fragile look from earlier in the evening, and the I'm-tired-of-being-alone undertone to her voice. He didn't mind her needing him a little, but even more he liked the strength and capability he saw. “Good night.”

“Night.”

He didn't exactly tiptoe down the staircase, but he didn't hurry, either, although the wood creaked under his weight. When he pulled the door shut behind him, he noticed she wasn't standing and watching, waiting for him to leave. She'd walked away.

He grinned.

He sat in his car for a few minutes, listening to his voice mail on both his cell and home phone answering machine,
in case he needed to return an urgent call. If he hadn't been taking care of business, he wouldn't have seen Venus knock on Kevin's door—and Kevin pull her in fast then stick his head back out, looking up and down the street before shutting the door.

Nor would he have seen, seconds later, their silhouettes against the downstairs curtains. No one could say she was keeping her distance.

C
aryn drove home after work the next day, showered, changed into a flowy blue skirt and soft white cotton T-shirt, loaded the three boxes of paperwork into her car, then headed for James's house. She'd called him during her lunch break. Even though Kevin would be at work, they'd decided to meet at James's house. He'd told her to come over whenever she was ready.

She wondered how much work time he'd lost in the past week because of her and Kevin. James was on her mind most of the time, and it was hugely distracting. Was he distracted, too? She didn't think that was a good thing for someone in his line of work.

He must have been watching for her, because he came down the steps as soon as she parked.

She liked his smile.

“Boxes in the back?” he asked.

She nodded. There was something different about him today, but what? He wore jeans and a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up a few turns. He was still clean-shaven. She didn't think he'd had a haircut since last night.

“What?” he asked, his arms loaded down with two large boxes.

She'd been staring at him. She couldn't imagine what he'd seen in her expression. Then it struck her what was different. She'd kissed him—or he'd kissed her. She was looking at him through different eyes. Not as the mother of a child they shared biologically, but as a woman. A hungry woman. A needy woman. She'd been waiting for him to kiss her hello, when there was no real expectation of that. Last night was just…a fluke.

“What?” he repeated, an edge to his voice this time.

She smiled—because she felt good just being there with him. She could lie to herself and say it was nice to be able to share the responsibility of Kevin with someone else again, but it wasn't the only truth. Far from it.

“Nothing,” she answered.

His brows lifted. “Nothing?”

She shrugged.

“Unpredictable,” he muttered then headed up the stairs. “You wanna grab the other box, please?”

She got the smaller box from the car, then set the alarm and followed James.
Jamey.
Even though he seemed to want her to call him that, she didn't think it suited him. He was a James—calm, steady, reliable. Which was at odds with the risk taker she knew must be part of his makeup.

She followed him into his office. He took the box from her and set it on top of the other two. She wondered if he knew how hard it was for her to let him see the paperwork
that proved Paul was a gambler, and not a very good provider. He would see everything about their finances over the past few years, good and bad. Her life would be bared.

Caryn looked at the boxes. She'd given him everything except one letter. A letter Paul had mailed to his private mailbox the day before he died. A letter she'd been forwarded not long ago. She hoped James would investigate the accident, come to the same conclusion as the police, so that she could believe it, too, then she would destroy the letter. Maybe she should have before.

“You aren't inhabiting earth today,” James said from close beside her.

She turned toward him. “Sorry.”

He eyed her seriously, steadily. Her heart picked up speed.

“Did Paul have a copy of his high school yearbook?” he asked.

“I didn't come across one.”

James pulled a book from the shelf behind him and flipped it open, then turned it around. She smiled at the picture of Paul at seventeen, dragged a finger across the photo.

“Cute,” she said. “He didn't look that much different when we met, a couple of years after this. Where's yours?”

He flipped ahead to the Ps.

She leaned over the book. “No doubting Kevin's paternity, is there? The resemblance is remarkable. Do you have baby pictures?”

“I'm sure my mom does. I could take you to meet her, if you'd like.”

“Not yet, thanks.” She would let Kevin establish his relationship first, because his mattered the most. She rested a hand on the top box. “Would you like to go through these together?”

“No.” A short, simple answer.

“Why not?”

“I'm handling the investigation as I would any job I'd taken on. I'll ask questions when I need to.”

“How do you separate yourself like that?”

“It's easy.” He glanced at the stack, as he had every few seconds.

“You're anxious to dig in.” That he wanted to work instead of spend some time with her prompted a little envy in her.

He finally focused on her, his demeanor softening. “You look very nice, Mysterious.”

She couldn't tell him how much she enjoyed her nickname, but she did. A lot. “Thank you.”

“I hope you'll stay for dinner.”

She had noticed a wonderful scent in the air when she first walked into the house. Before she answered, he moved an inch or two closer.

“We're going to be in each other's lives for a long time, Caryn. We might as well learn to be comfortable together.”

She was comfortable—too comfortable—even as he invaded her personal space.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I already appreciate who you are,” he said. “A good mother, a loyal and faithful wife, and a woman of her word. I know you struggle with sharing Kevin with me, and I admire you all the more for being gracious about it.”

“You give Kevin things I can't. I won't deny him what you offer, even if it stings a little.” She stood a little taller. “So, what's for dinner?”

“Pork roast, scalloped potatoes, green beans almandine and sourdough bread.”

“Are you trying to fatten me up?” She knew she would be healthier with a little more weight. Maybe it had been a big turnoff for him, holding her skinny body.

“I like good food,” he said. “And it's even better shared.”

Good answer. “Okay. I'd love to join you for dinner.”

“We've got about fifteen or twenty minutes until it's ready. Would you like something to drink? Wine? Tea?”

“White wine, thanks.”

“Go take a seat in the living room. I'll join you in a minute.”

The last time she'd been there, she'd noticed the room only as a way of distracting herself from the high-pitched emotion of the moment. What struck her now was how restful the room was. Music came from speakers hidden somewhere, classical, nothing she could identify. The fireplace looked ready to set a match to.

She'd just taken a seat on the sofa when James joined her, a glass of white wine in each hand. She murmured her thanks. He sat on the couch, too, although not next to her.

“I keep forgetting to ask you about your bike,” she said.

“What you paid will cover the damages.”

She wondered whether that was the truth, but she figured she would never know for sure. “Will you get it back soon?”

“The new fender needs to be chromed. Next week, I think.” He laid an arm along the back of the sofa and angled toward her more. “Do you like your job?”

“It's okay.”

“Something else you'd rather be doing?”

“I'm not trained for much else.”

“No secret passion?”

Now
there
was a loaded question. She hid a smile behind her wineglass as she took a sip.

When she didn't answer, he questioned her further. “Obviously you like horses. Would you like to work with them again?”

“Are you running an employment agency for the Brenley family?” she asked, amused.

“I'm just curious.”

“Okay. Well, I think I've had my fill of horses, except to ride now and then. Taking care of them and the stables was hard, physical work.”

“Isn't waitressing hard?”

“Yes, but differently. My feet take the most abuse.” She watched his gaze slide to her feet. She wore soft leather slip-ons, old and comfortable.

After a few seconds, he set down his wineglass, moved closer to her and picked up her feet.

She jackknifed forward, trying to pull free of his grasp but couldn't. “What are you doing?”

“Pampering you a little.” He stared at her, almost unblinking, daring her with his eyes. Daring what? She swallowed. It had been so long since anyone had done anything just for her.

Well, why not give in? She let him lift her feet into his lap. He pulled off her shoes in a way that felt downright erotic, almost as sexy as if he'd undressed her. Oh, yes, it had been way too long. She closed her eyes and leaned back, then felt her glass being taken from her hand. She heard a soft tap as he put it on the coffee table.

He pushed a thumb into each instep. She drew in a hard, quick breath at the pain and pleasure his touch brought. Her fingers dug into the suede fabric. She relaxed them one at a time, then her hands, then her arms. He didn't speak. She wasn't sure whether she wanted the distraction of a con
versation or not. Without it she focused on his touch, couldn't ignore it.

He had magic hands, slow, steady, sensational. He deepened the pressure, rotated her ankles, massaged each toe, found every sore spot and massaged it into mush. A sigh escaped her, although sounding embarrassingly like a moan. Except for a spa day at a salon that some of her girlfriends had arranged before she moved to San Francisco, no one had touched her for longer than a second or two, and nothing as intimate as what James was doing, even though his hands never strayed farther than her ankles.

Her body warmed on its own in reaction, his touch as arousing as if he were stroking her body. The denim fabric of his jeans under her calves abraded sensually. Her knee-length skirt had slipped back enough to expose her knees and a few inches of each thigh. She decided not to yank the skirt over her knees, not wanting him to know how much his touch affected her.

Maybe she shouldn't care. They were adults, with needs….

No. A lifetime connection awaited them through Kevin. Better to keep the relationship close but not intimate. They would share grandchildren at some point.

Grandchildren! She opened her eyes at the image.

“What's wrong?” he asked, but not taking away his hands.

A bell began to chime, a timer, she thought, as it didn't shut off. Saved by the bell. Dinner was ready.

His hands stilled, but he didn't take them away. Instead he curved them over her feet, keeping them warm. “What's wrong, Caryn?” he repeated.

Seeing him so close, feeling his legs under hers and his hands touching her bare feet, she didn't want to have to
hold back. “I just realized we will probably share grandchildren eventually.”

James froze in place. Words stuck in his throat.

“Does that make you feel old?” she asked.

“Old” was the least of it, he thought. Considering he was looking forward to becoming a father, the idea of becoming a grandfather was almost beyond comprehension. “I do not feel old,” he said. “And you don't look old enough to be a grandmother.”

“Thank you. I don't think I'm ready for the pitter-patter of little feet at this point in my life, either. I'm just getting Kevin out of the house, if only downstairs, so far.”

Something inside him shifted. The path to marriage and fatherhood made a sharp left turn. “A grandchild wouldn't live with you.”

“One would hope not, anyway, but it happens. Regardless, I would be very involved. I know that about myself.” She pulled her feet free, then stood and slid her feet into her shoes. “Thank you for the foot rub. Dinner is ready, I gather?”

Maybe it was safe to enjoy a more intimate relationship, after all, he thought. She wouldn't want marriage and children, but maybe she would be agreeable to more than friendship with him. It might complicate things later on, depending on how the relationship ended.

He would give it some thought….

He considered it all through dinner, even though they talked of other things, of Kevin and his childhood, of their own lives, of some of his funniest pursuit stories. She insisted on helping with dishes. Then the moment he shut the dishwasher he came to a decision. He wouldn't kiss her. Wouldn't take a chance that their lifelong relationship-to-
come would be damaged by a short-lived affair, which it would have to be. She didn't want children. Plus, they had a child together already. That couldn't be acknowledged to the world in general. Enough strangeness existed in the relationship without adding to it. Why complicate it?

“I'd like to see your garden before I go,” she said.

You're going already?
It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed himself as he had over dinner. Maybe Cassie was right. Maybe he'd been aiming too young. There was something to be said for life experience.

The up lights he'd installed around the yard spotlighted elegant trees and a bed of mums in full bloom. They walked a winding path.

“This is so nice,” she said, looking up at a liquid amber tree. “We used to have one of these,” she said, walking toward it.

Along the way she dipped her fingers in a birdbath, and her smile turned into a grin.

He shook his head slowly, cautioning her, anticipating what she was about to do.

But she ignored his warning and flicked a few drops of water at him and ran. He threatened her, then caught up with her. They were both smiling.

She rested her back against the liquid amber, catching her breath, and reached up to pluck a leaf from a nearby branch. Her fingers worked at it, shredding it thoroughly, then she sprinkled the shreds over his head and laughed when he shook them off and onto her instead.

She was a dangerous woman when she smiled at him like that. He knew her life wasn't easy, that she'd suffered a lot, some of it needlessly because of Paul's gambling addiction, but she seemed to be moving on. He didn't want
to do anything to hurt that process. But damn, when she looked at him as she was…

He brushed his hand over her head, dusting away the leaf bits. Then somehow he was cupping her face with one hand, then the other. He'd kissed her yesterday, but that was different. That was almost in sympathy. This would not be. Tell me if you want me to stop, he told her silently.