Shooting the Moon (4 page)

Either way, she couldn’t really walk away without hearing him out, could she?

Hesitating, she glanced between her car and the restaurant. Once she entered Thai Basil, there’d be no turning back. Once she walked in, she’d cross that invisible line between Harley and her family, and in doing so betray her sister’s memory
and
her father’s wishes.

If only her father was here to finish what had been started eleven years ago. She’d taken care of Brandon for most of his life, even when he was a baby and she was still in her senior year of high school. But she didn’t know the gritty details of what had happened between Audra and Harley. She and her sister had never been close. Audra hadn’t confided in her. Their father had run interference and concealed as many of the facts as he could—because he was so terribly disappointed in Audra and embarrassed that a daughter of his would involve herself with someone like Harley, and do the other things she did.

But now her father was half a world away, and Lauren’s conscience was dictating that she at least hear what Brandon’s father had to say. For Brandon, if not for Harley.

Throwing back her shoulders, she took a firm hold on her purse and went inside, where the inviting aroma of lemongrass, basil and curry wafted around her and Oriental music played softly in the background.

Even before her eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, Harley was beside her, telling the hostess they were together. He gently clasped her elbow, guiding her to a table in the far corner, then pulled out her chair and took his seat across from her. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

He’d spoken only three words, and already Lauren wanted to bolt. Was it because he sounded so sincere, so relieved that she’d agreed to meet him? She didn’t want to soften. She felt infinitely safer and more comfortable hiding behind what she’d believed to be true for so long. But it wasn’t fair to remain purposely blind, deaf and dumb.

“Lauren?”

She’d ducked behind the menu almost the moment she sat down, but lowered it now to look up at him—and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was wearing a simple cotton T-shirt beneath his black leather jacket, a pair of faded jeans and black boots. He wasn’t exactly setting any new fashion trends, but what he lacked in cutting-edge style he compensated for with raw masculinity. His T-shirt pulled across his muscular chest. His jeans molded to his body like a second skin, not because they were tight but because they dipped and curved in all the right places. And he smelled…incredible. Lauren was accustomed to her dates smelling like the cosmetics department at Nordstrom where they no doubt bought their expensive colognes, but Harley’s scent was less artificial, more like…leather and clean clothes, soap and warm skin.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she suddenly announced. She stood up to leave, but he caught her by the wrist.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said, his voice low. “We’re only going to talk.”

She stared down at his hand. His grip didn’t hurt. It felt warm and reassuring, but he quickly let go as though he feared she’d take exception to his touch.

“It just isn’t right,” she said, feeling the pull of the exit and the bliss of ignorance beyond. “It seems like I’m…I don’t know, consorting with the enemy.”

He offered her a tentative smile. “Come on. We’re just having dinner. We’re not consorting. Besides, do I look dangerous to you?” His expression grew sheepish. “Yesterday’s arrest aside, of course.”

Lauren told herself not to return his smile, but the memory of his arrest, funnier in retrospect, combined with the knowledge that it had occurred simply because of a speeding ticket, got the better of her. “I can’t believe you were dragged off right in front of me,” she said with a small laugh. “You certainly have good timing.”

His smile turned into a crooked grin. “Yeah, well it took some work to arrange it. Not everyone can manage to get arrested in front of the one person it’s in their best interests to impress.” The look of chagrin reappeared. “I’m never going
anywhere
without my helmet again.”

“It doesn’t seem like you to be cautious,” she said, fidgeting with the back of the chair.

“No, it seems like you.” He gazed up at her, now serious, and Lauren understood his meaning. He thought she was being too narrow minded—and maybe she was.

“I just want what’s best for Brandon.”

“And I’d die before I let anything hurt him.”

Lauren told herself that of course he’d say something so reassuring. He was trying to win her confidence. But the sincerity in his voice convinced her. There was something about Harley Nelson that begged her to believe in him, if only a little. Why he affected her that way, she couldn’t fathom, not after what had happened to Audra.

“I ordered some chardonnay,” he said when the waitress appeared carrying a bottle of wine. “I thought you
might like a glass.” He nodded toward the chair. “That is, if you’re going to sit back down and eat with me.”

Lauren looked from Harley to the waitress. If she didn’t leave now, she knew she might regret it for the rest of her life…but she couldn’t make herself walk away from the hope in his eyes.

“I’ll stay,” she said. There wasn’t anything wrong with spending an hour or so in Harley’s company. If he was everything her father said, their time together wouldn’t change the situation. And Quentin Worthington was rarely wrong.

Harley seemed to relax when she took her seat again. He smiled at her, but Lauren almost asked him to stop. That smile brought memories of silly schooldays, when she and Kimberly used to write notes to each other gushing about how handsome he was and speculating on whether or not they’d pass him in the halls after their next class. One time, at a school dance, Harley had crossed the floor, coming toward her, and Lauren was sure he meant to dance with her. Her breath caught, her stomach filled with butterflies. Then he’d extended his hand to the girl behind her.

Why had she remembered that? What could it possibly matter now?

“What’s good here?” Harley asked, studying the menu.

“I like the Pad Thai and the chicken-and-coconut-milk soup.”

“Should we get the Chicken Satay as an appetizer?”

“If you want. We’re not on a date,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.

He scowled. “What is it with you? Is having a little bit of fun going to betray everything you’ve ever known?”

“No. Meeting with you is.”

“Well, we’re meeting already, so we might as well enjoy ourselves, provided you know how.”

“I know how to have fun,” she replied, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive. “It’s just that I’m sitting across from the man who got my sister pregnant and has suddenly reappeared out of nowhere to threaten what I love most. What’s fun about that?”

He stared at her for a long time, and again Lauren regretted sounding so harsh. What was it about Harley that knocked her off her balance? One minute she thought she was being too kind to him. The next she thought she was being too cruel. She couldn’t seem to pick a lane.

“Tell me something,” he said. “What would you do if you were me?”

Lauren didn’t answer. She didn’t want to look at things from his perspective, knew instinctively that it would only undermine her resolve.

“Lauren?”

“I don’t know,” she said impatiently. “I guess I wouldn’t have left. I would’ve stayed around so I could know my son.”

He cupped a hand to his ear. “What? I can’t hear you for the silver spoon in your mouth.”

“We’re talking about character, not privilege or money,” she retorted, curling her fingernails into her palms because she knew she wasn’t being completely honest. She was well aware of his situation ten years ago—eighteen years old, penniless, the fatherless son of an alcoholic mother. With her own powerful father doing his best to shut him out, and Audra falling in line behind Quentin, what could Harley have done? Would anyone have stuck around in the face of all that?

“We’re talking about a lack of options,” he clarified.

The waitress approached to take their order. Lauren kept her eyes on her wine, slowly turning her glass by the stem while Harley ordered pad thai and soup for her, yellow curry chicken for himself and the chicken satay as an appetizer for them both.

When they were alone again, Lauren folded her hands in her lap and shot him a glance. “Maybe you didn’t have a lot of options back then,” she said, “but you were old enough to know what made a baby. Why didn’t you use any birth control?”

His gaze never wavered. “I was so crazy about her that it might not have mattered, but for what it’s worth, Audra told me she was on the pill.”

It might not have mattered?
How did one forget about something so important? “What about my father?” she asked. “You knew he didn’t want you around Audra.”

“And I was supposed to respect that? God, are you really so cold? I was in love with her!”

So his relationship with her sister had meant more than sex to him. Lauren had often wondered. But knowing that truth only made her feel worse. Or was it what he’d just said about her that stung? Damien Thompson had once called her an ice princess, but she wasn’t cold. She’d just never been head over heels in love.

“If you’d stayed away from Audra, there wouldn’t have been a problem,” she said.

“You mean there wouldn’t have been a Brandon,” he replied, and he was right. How could she think such a thing? Brandon was the most wonderful child in the world. Dammit! Why was this so confusing?

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to regroup. “I realize you had a difficult childhood, and I hate the thought of you or anyone else suffering—”

“I’m not interested in your sympathy,” he interrupted with a dark scowl. “I’m just asking you to understand that what happened back then isn’t as black and white as you seem to believe. I’m not trying to ruin your life. I wasn’t trying to ruin Audra’s. I’m only here because I have a son I fathered ten years ago. I’ve never seen him, and I think it’s time I changed all that, don’t you?”

Every nerve in Lauren’s body stretched taut. How much
of a change was Harley hoping for? He lived in California. He couldn’t maintain any kind of close relationship with Brandon so far away. And Lauren couldn’t let Brandon go anywhere with him. Even if she agreed, which she never would, her father wouldn’t allow it. And Quentin Worthington had the resources to see his wishes through, while Harley was just a motorcycle salesman.

Noting the clear intelligence shining in Harley’s green eyes, the aquiline nose, the full bottom lip and square, rugged chin, she saw much of this man in Brandon. Was that why she felt so attracted to Harley? Surely it wasn’t the old schoolgirl crush, the one that had her staring after him in high school?

“What exactly are you asking?” she breathed.

“Let me see him.”

“I can’t.”

“Lauren.” He reached out and covered her cold hand with his warm one. “Please.”

She closed her eyes. This was going to start something big. She knew it; she could feel it. And it terrified her. “When?” she managed.

“Tonight. After dinner.”

“Not tonight.”

His hand tightened on hers. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. At that moment, the waitress arrived with their food, but Lauren knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.

W
HAT A NIGHT
!
Lauren groaned as she trained one bleary eye on her alarm clock. It was five in the morning. She’d left the restaurant at eleven and tossed and turned until three. Then, when she finally fell asleep, she’d dreamed about Harley snatching Brandon from her. She could still see the triumphant grin he’d worn when he ripped the boy from her grasp, tossed him onto the back of his bike and roared away. It was a disturbing image that conflicted with the Harley she’d met for dinner last night, but at this hour, the sinister Harley seemed more real than not.

Shoving a hand through her tangled hair, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off again.
Don’t think about it,
she told herself. She had another hour before she was scheduled to pick Brandon up from Kimberly’s so she could get him ready for school, but she was too worried to relax. She’d promised to introduce Brandon to his father today. Would she be letting the wolf in the door?

The telephone rang, the noise startling and loud in the silent house.

She grabbed the receiver and cleared her throat before saying hello, then sagged in relief when she heard her father on the other end of the line. He’d gotten her messages. Thank heaven!

“Dad, I’m so glad to hear from you,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days. Where have you and Mom been?”

“We took the train to Paris for the weekend. Just got
back,” he said. “What’s wrong? The front desk here at the hotel said it was urgent. Is Brandon okay?”

Lauren sat up, cross-legged, and kneaded her forehead. She’d wanted to speak to her father ever since Harley had appeared, but now that she had Quentin on the phone, she was almost afraid to tell him what was going on. She knew he wasn’t going to like the fact that Harley had popped back into their lives, and hated to admit that she wasn’t maintaining a stronger defense against him. “Brandon’s fine, Dad, don’t worry. Everything’s fine—for the most part.”
At least right now.
“It’s just that…well, Harley’s back. He came here Saturday morning.”

“What?”

Flinching from the blast of her father’s voice, Lauren held the phone away from her ear. “It’s true,” she said when it was safe to move the handset closer.

“What do you mean he’s back? Has he moved to town?”

“What’s happened? What is it?” she heard her mother ask in the background.

“No. He lives in California,” Lauren said. “He learned about Audra and came to see Brandon.”

“Did you let him in?”

An ominous silence followed this question, one that made Lauren glad she could answer honestly when she said no. She didn’t add, “not yet.”

“Good for you, honey,” he said. “Harley Nelson has no business with us. That boy’s nothing but trouble.”

That
boy?
Harley wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a man now, and a man to be reckoned with, if her instincts could be trusted.

“Harley Nelson’s back?” her mother cried.

“You tell him to go back to whatever rock he crawled out from under,” her father said. “I won’t let him say two words to Brandon.”

The relief Lauren had experienced when she’d first heard her father’s voice was quickly fading. “Audra’s gone now, Dad,” she said as he finally quieted her mother with a terse, “Just a minute, Marilee, I can’t hear a thing she’s saying with you squawking in my ear.”

“What did you say?” he demanded, returning to the conversation.

“I said Audra’s gone now.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, he
is
Brandon’s father, his only living parent.”

“I don’t care if he’s the man on the moon—Marilee, would you please shut up and let me talk?—Audra’s dead because of him. Besides, we’re all the family Brandon needs.”

“We’re all he’s ever known,” her mother put in.

“That might be true,” Lauren said. “But what if Harley takes us to court? You realize he could win complete custody. We stand to lose Brandon altogether.”

At last, a moment of silence. “What’s he like now?” Quentin asked, his voice less emotional and more calculating.

Lauren pictured the tall, handsome spectacle that was Harley Nelson and tried not to feel so much as a flicker of admiration, but something fluttered in her stomach all the same. “He’s taller and…a little broader,” she said to avoid saying anything more flattering. She could have added that he was confident, almost cocky, and very real, very appealing—far different from any of the stuffed shirts she’d dated. But she didn’t. “He still drives a motorcycle,” she said so her description wouldn’t sound quite so sketchy.

Fortunately her father didn’t push her for any more details. “See?” he responded immediately. “He hasn’t changed. Bad seeds rarely do. Probably doesn’t have a pot to piss in. Don’t worry, Lauren, there’s nothing a man like that can do to us or Brandon.”

So they had Harley outgunned as far as resources went. Did that justify denying him the opportunity to meet his own son? What about the moral side of the dilemma? And what about Brandon’s wishes? If he were to find out his father was in town, surely he’d want to see him. “But if Harley sincerely regrets what he did, then it would only be right to—”

“Don’t tell
me
what’s right,” her father snapped. “He couldn’t regret what happened any more than I do. That son of a bitch cost me my little girl,” he said, his voice growing hoarse with emotion.

Audra. Lauren felt the same sense of loss and regret she knew her father felt, but she had to ask herself how much of the situation ten years ago had been Audra’s fault? And how much had been Harley’s? Had she told him she was on the pill, as he claimed? If so, she certainly deserved a larger portion of the responsibility than the Worthingtons had ever allotted to her before. But the real question was whether or not Audra would’ve alienated her family and sunk into drug abuse without Harley starting her down the wrong road and abandoning her.

That was tough to say. Remembering the way her sister had behaved at school, flitting from one guy to the next, partying with the best of them and rebelling against any kind of authority, Lauren had difficulty placing
all
the blame in Harley’s lap. “She was eighteen, Dad.”

“So? What are you saying?”

That she was old enough to understand the consequences of her actions. Lauren had known better than to follow in Audra’s footsteps, even at the tender age of seventeen. “She was almost an adult.”

“How can you say that? Audra was just an innocent young girl when she met Harley.”

“He was the same age.”

“Maybe. But he was hardly innocent. And I tried to tell him to leave her alone. I told him what was going to
happen. If only the little bastard had listened. Don’t you remember me catching them in the front yard in the middle of the night, both of them nearly falling-down drunk? I told him to stay away from her then. I knew it was just a matter of time before he ruined her life, and I was right.”

Lauren heard her mother warning Quentin to watch his blood pressure, but he seemed to pay no more attention to that than anything else Marilee said.

“He’s cost us enough already, Lauren. You know that,” he muttered.

“What about Brandon? What about what
he
might want?”

“Lauren, Brandon’s not even ten. He doesn’t know what’s best, and it wouldn’t be fair to involve him.”

“Shouldn’t we at least tell him that his father’s in town? See if—”

“Why? What good would it do?” he broke in. “If you bring Brandon into this, you’ll only upset him.”

Lauren didn’t say anything. She hated confrontations and avoided them whenever possible, especially with her father. But somehow it felt dishonest not to tell Brandon that his father had some interest in knowing him.

“Lauren?” her father said when she didn’t speak.

“I’m here.”

“I love Brandon, honey. You know how much.”

Lauren couldn’t help responding to the softening in his voice. “I don’t doubt that.”

“If Audra had listened to me in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. She’d still be with us. But she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let me do what I knew was best for her.”

Was Lauren making the same mistake? Was she undermining her father when she should be supporting him? The thought that she might be doing just that seemed to shed new light on everything.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I won’t mention Harley to Brandon, and I’ll tell Harley to stay away. But what do I do if he won’t take no for an answer? What if he won’t leave us alone?”

“Then we’ll get a restraining order against him until this can go to court. But don’t worry. It won’t get that far. The boy I remember from ten years ago wasn’t the kind to stick around long enough to fight for anything. Do you think things are any different now?”

Yes! She thought things were significantly different. Harley wasn’t a man who’d allow himself to be bullied or intimidated or denied. Not by Quentin Worthington or his fortune. How Lauren knew that, she couldn’t exactly say. It had something to do with Harley’s bearing and demeanor. At the same time, it was only a hunch and she could be wrong, so she hesitated to state her opinion too strongly.

“He’s a little more determined than he used to be,” she said.

“Then we’ll be just as determined. He’s not going to threaten my family’s well-being a second time.”

“Right. I understand.”

“Where is he now?”

“I believe he’s staying with an old friend of his.” In fact, she knew he was. He’d said so last night. He’d even given her the number.

“Well, if he comes around again, you send him packing. If he won’t leave, call the police.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, but her heart sank as she contemplated facing Harley and telling him she’d changed her mind. She felt sorry for him, for what he’d lost, even if it was largely due to his own poor judgment.

“I wish we were there to help you. Do you think your mom and I should come home?”

Deep down Lauren wished they would. She wanted Quentin to deal with the situation so she wouldn’t have
to. Let him sift the rights from the wrongs, make the tough decisions—and accept the responsibility.

What a cop-out,
she thought, cringing at her cowardice. She was nearly thirty years old. It was time she took charge instead of expecting her parents to handle everything.

“Don’t cut your trip short yet,” she said. “Let’s wait and see how things go. Maybe after I talk to him he’ll just…go home.”
Yeah, right!

“Okay. But promise you’ll call us after you talk to him.”

“I will.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“Here, your mother wants to say hello.”

H
ARLEY SAT
on the edge of a bed consisting of two mattresses and a cheap set of rails in Tank’s spare room, waiting anxiously for the sun to rise. He was surrounded by boxes filled with who knew what—leftovers from Tank’s marriage, probably, belongings that held too many memories to unpack—staring at empty walls and a dirty window with a broken blind. But he could’ve been sitting behind home plate at the World Series and it wouldn’t have made any difference. He would still have been thinking of Brandon.

He was going to meet his son today. Harley had envisioned coming face to face with him hundreds, even thousands of times, but he’d never anticipated feeling so…apprehensive. It might’ve been different if Brandon was younger and less likely to be critical. Toddlers didn’t care what a parent was like. They accepted whatever love they were offered. But a nine-year-old boy…

Harley stretched his neck, then squeezed the muscles in his left shoulder, wishing he could iron out a few of the knots. A nine-year-old boy would already know how
to play ball and read and ride a bike. He’d have his own taste in clothes and his own opinions on what was cool and whether or not he might be interested in getting to know the man who’d fathered him.

What if Brandon didn’t want to be bothered? What if he didn’t want Harley to disturb his picture-perfect life with the Worthingtons?

He already has everything. He doesn’t need you.

“You up, man?” Tank stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a muscle shirt and a pair of boxers, his voice dispelling the echo of Lauren’s words in Harley’s head.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to stretch the kinks out of his neck again.

His friend yawned, then eyed the blankets that were still folded rather haphazardly behind Harley. “Didn’t you go to bed?”

After his meeting with Lauren, Harley had stopped by the Holiday Inn to pack his things and check out. Then he’d let himself into Tank’s apartment just after midnight, where he’d spent several hours on his laptop, seeing how sales were going at Burlingame Harley Davidson and answering e-mails sent to him by Joe Randall, his manager. He’d tried to sleep afterward but ended up pacing instead, and thinking about Brandon.

“I had too much on my mind. What are you doing up so early?”

“You kidding? I pour concrete for a living. I get up this early as a rule. Otherwise, I’m working late in the afternoon and it gets too damned hot. How’d it go with Lauren last night?”

“Good. Better than I expected.” He certainly hadn’t anticipated finding Audra’s little sister, or any member of Audra’s family, the least bit likeable. They lived in an expensive house, drove fancy cars, spent money as though it were water and had absolutely no idea what it was like to go without. Understanding and acceptance were con
cepts as unfamiliar to them as the idea of mowing their own lawn or painting their own house. But there was something about Lauren that made Harley wonder if she was really as bad as he’d assumed. She’d been decent last night. She’d allowed him to break through her icy reserve and reach what he hoped was her heart—provided she really had one.

“She gonna let you see Brandon?” Tank asked.

“Yeah, today as a matter of fact.”