Sweet Child of Mine (3 page)

He stopped and toyed with his glass of iced tea, skimming wet circles on the table. She tried not to notice his long fingers, his capable hands. Then he looked at her squarely. “He wants badly to see me settled, wants to see me happily married and building a future like the one he’s always wanted for me.”

“But I can’t—”

He shook his head vigorously. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to happen. That’s not my future. I like my life just fine as it is.”

“So what is this, Michael? Why are you talking to me about—”

“I could give him the illusion. That’s little enough for me to do. I can’t do anything else for him anymore, but I could do this. I could give him a reason to think that the future he’s convinced I need is within reach. He won’t last long enough for me to give him a grandchild, but I could give him the hope, if you’d help me.”

“What about Bobby? I couldn’t stay married too long. I wouldn’t want Bobby to get attached to you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. He’s young enough not to care about the legal issues. I’ll just be a friend. I actually like kids a lot.” There it was again, that swift stab of pain in his eyes. “But I won’t try to win your son over. And as soon as permanent custody is granted and my dad is gone, we can get a painless divorce. I’ll pay child support—I can afford it. I wouldn’t want your son to suffer because of any of this.”

She stiffened. “You aren’t going to buy me off. I’m through with rich boys buying their way out of things.”

“I’m not the rich boy who hurt you, Suzanne. If monthly support isn’t acceptable, then let me give you a settlement for his college education.”

“This isn’t about money. If we did this crazy thing, I’d be responsible for all my expenses and Bobby’s.”

A tiny smile flickered on that too-handsome face. “I doubt you make enough to pay my electric bill.”

“I’m not going to be indebted to you for money.” Just as she felt temper flaring, she beat it back. He was being decent, and her pride was striking out.

Suzanne reached across the table for his hand. The feel of his skin jolted her, made her very aware of the reality of what she was doing. But she was also deeply grateful. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to leaning on other people. I can’t lean on you. If I could
do this alone, I would, but you’re right. It’s a godsend. I don’t want your money, though. It’s enough—more than enough—that you’d do this to help me get back my son.”

She could feel tears threatening, but she couldn’t give in. In the morning they’d probably both decide that the whole idea was insane. But just in case, she had to set the ground rules.

“Separate bedrooms. If my money won’t go far enough, we’ll keep an account. I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll play whatever part is needed to convince your father.” She drew a deep breath. “And no settlement at the end.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You can’t tell me what to do with my money. If I want to set up a college fund for the boy, I’ll damn well do it.”

“You will not—” She exhaled in a gust and fell back against the booth. “This is hopeless. It would be worse for Bobby to go into a home where there’s fighting than to be with Jim’s cousin.”

“I never took you for a quitter,” he said, settling back against the booth. But his eyes bored into her. “It’s not hopeless unless you let it be. Difficult, yes, but not hopeless. We’ll put on a great show in public and give each other wide berth in private.”

“And what will Bobby think? He’ll be there in private with us.”

“We’ll keep things very civil and pleasant. You can restrain yourself enough to do that, right, Su
zanne?” His gaze dared her to admit she lacked self-control. “I’ll be good to the boy, I told you that. You’ll give him the love he needs. You’re the expert on children, and you want to raise him alone anyway. If he doesn’t get attached to me, it will make things easier in the long run. But that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.” His smile was wry. “Believe it or not, any number of people seem to think I’m pretty good at being a friend.”

Shame washed over her. He was making her a very generous offer, giving her a path to a dream she’d held so long that it had woven itself into the fiber of her soul. She could have her son back, and all she had to do was to pretend to be happily married to Michael when they were out in public.

He wasn’t an ogre. He never had been. They didn’t see eye to eye on politics, but he’d never been unkind to her. There was more than a little truth in his assessment—she led with her heart, always had. Just because he didn’t wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t her way.

“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if you’re crazy about Bobby and don’t want to let me have him?”

“That—” his voice grew tight “—will not happen.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, Suzanne, if you want me to put it in writing, I will. I don’t want a family. I don’t need one.”

“Why not?” She’d often thought him some sort of
Casanova, some perpetual playboy with an Ivy League mind. Now she knew she’d judged him too quickly. There was a story here, and she wanted to know it.

“I had a family I loved very much. They’re gone. End of story.”

She’d heard once that he’d been a widower for years, but no details. “What happened?”

She was shocked to see his eyes hollowed out by grief. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

Shame washed over her again. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away.

There was pain here, and it was deep. Why had she never suspected? He’d perfected his cover, that was why. She had bought the fiction of a man who was everyone’s friend, whose life was a breeze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s over.”

He was dead wrong. He’d erected barriers fathoms deep and oceans wide, but he hadn’t dealt with his grief, merely buried it.

His demeanor made it abundantly clear that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. And truthfully, he’d just given her the best assurance she could have that he wouldn’t want to claim her son. He had a child of his own who still resided in his heart, alive or not.

She should accept this boon for what it was—a very generous gift. He had reasons to need this mar
riage and so did she. They were reasonable people. And it was only for a little while. Only temporary. She’d lived with a hole in her heart for ten years. She’d have her child back, the child she’d never quit missing. She could play her part in the charade that would make that possible.

“All right. I think we understand each other and what we need and don’t need, what we want and don’t want. You’ll help me get my son, and I’ll help you make your father happy. As soon as possible, we’ll go our own ways, but in the meantime, we’ll deal together as reasonable people and try to make it as easy on each other as we can. Deal?” She held out her hand.

His mood lightened. His mouth quirked in a grin. “You won’t strain something trying to be reasonable, will you?” He closed his large, warm hand over hers, and she felt the jolt again.

“It depends. Do you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor?”

He laughed then, dimples winking, his even white teeth flashing. For one second, something inside her shivered as his very maleness swamped her.

“No. I have my faults, but that’s not one of them.”

She pulled her hand away, but she could still feel the heat of him buzzing beneath her skin. “Have we lost our minds, trying this?”

“Probably. But let’s do it anyway.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “Walk out with me. We
need to get started convincing people that we’re a couple.”

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand in his, let him tug her to her feet.

But he didn’t stop there. He pulled her into his arms and before she could react, lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was quick but lethal. Michael lifted his head and stared at her, his own confusion mirroring hers.

Suzanne knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. The sense of safety in his strong arms was seductive. It felt far better than it should.

Mistake, her mind kept trying to say to her.

But before her voice could catch up, Michael lowered his mouth to hers once more.

And this time it wasn’t quick. It wasn’t casual.

It was more lethal. Devastating. When one arm tightened around her and the other hand slid into her hair, Suzanne felt her legs turn to jelly, her brain overload.

All the fire that had sparked between them in words in the past raced to a four-alarm blaze when they touched. As though they belonged to someone else, her arms slid around his trim waist, her hands sliding over the long muscles of his back, her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.

Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. His
powerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.

Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.

Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.

“This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”

She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.

“It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.

Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”

There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.

She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.

One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.

“Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”

She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.

So she just patted the hand that lay on her shoulder and smiled for the audience. “Reasonable, that’s right. Now get me the devil out of here.”

Michael laughed and led her outside.

W
arm rays of sunlight on his face awakened Michael. He levered himself up from the bed, not happy that he’d overslept. A glance at the clock told him he’d have to hurry to squeeze in his morning run. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then slid them upward through his hair.

And then it hit him.

He fell back on the mattress, arms outspread. The night—and his impulsive gesture—came flooding back.

He was going to get married. To Suzanne Jorgenson.

Jerking upright, he pulled on a pair of ancient
sweats and shoved his feet into his running shoes. He barely spared a glance for the treasured panorama from his bedroom but as he crossed to the hallway door, his gaze fell on the connecting door that led from his bedroom to an old-fashioned dressing room…and then to the bedroom Suzanne would have. The house had been built by a San Francisco shipping magnate in the last century and it had four bedrooms, two large and two small, all on the second floor. He used one of the smaller ones for an office, and the boy would need the other, which left only the room originally designed for the magnate’s wife.

Separate bedrooms had seemed perfectly reasonable last night, but that was before that last kiss. Now he wondered if maybe these weren’t separate enough.

Michael began his warm-up stretches, his mind lost in thought.

He should have expected it, he guessed, that swift punch of need. It was an understandable reaction to the wealth of passion he’d already seen in Suzanne’s devotion to her causes. He had to admit that he’d wondered, sitting there on the dais watching her eyes spark as she argued fervently over one thing or another, if that fervor would translate to the physical.

He’d underestimated how much. And seriously underestimated his own reaction to it. The woman would strip a man of every rational thought and leave him happily witless.

Suzanne might be small, but she packed a punch.

But that wasn’t the part that worried him most. For all that she could make a man want, it was the new vulnerability he’d seen in her that gave Michael pause. This was a dangerous game they would play—assuming she wasn’t having second thoughts as huge as his.

He’d have to track her down this morning and take a good look in her eyes. Given how badly she wanted her son, he suspected she’d go ahead, no matter her doubts. And he’d given his word, so he wouldn’t retract his offer.

He finished his last stretch and cast one more look at that connecting door.

Shaking his head, he pounded down the stairs. He’d hate to drill into the antique doors, but locks were made to control temptation, if he needed them. Kissing Suzanne last night had been an impulse but a very good lesson. Having her close would be a constant physical temptation, but he had his warning.

He’d have to be very careful. A woman like that could make a man lose his head. Good thing he wasn’t a man who let his body rule his mind.

But that kiss, that feel of her pressed against him—

No. Suzanne needed his help, and he was a man of his word. If she still wanted to go through with it, he would not let her down nor let physical attraction complicate an already thorny situation.

He raced out the front door and let the cold air slap sense into him.

Suzanne slipped out of the last room housing one of her charges and walked down the hallway of Emily’s House, already thinking about Monday’s move of the kids to Hacienda de Alegria, the Colton ranch. Mentally compiling her to-do list, she was lost in thought when she heard his voice. Her gaze arrowed toward the man who’d made last night a very bad one for sleep.

Michael stood with a couple of staff members and Dr. Jason Colton, patiently answering questions about the water crisis. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Suzanne was free to look her fill. She needed to do it, to put him into some perspective. To remember that he was merely extending a helping hand in return for her help in solving his own problem. That was all this was, nothing else. A simple, bloodless, temporary marriage that each of them needed for different reasons.

If only he didn’t look so good. Dressed in his usual jeans and boots and wearing a long-sleeved forest-green shirt, he held his leather jacket over his shoulder with two fingers. Tall and so at ease in his skin, he smiled and laughed easily as he talked with the trio.

She wondered if anyone else in Prosperino knew he was a fraud. That Mr. Romeo Rich Guy had a heart that had never healed after a loss he refused to discuss.

She wanted to know what had happened, but he’d made it very clear that the topic was off limits. And
maybe it was better that way, she thought as she watched his dimples flash around a smiling mouth.

Because that mouth was a problem. Suzanne lifted one hand and pressed her lips, still able to feel the touch of his.

No wonder he had hot and cold running women. The man could kiss…oh, how he could kiss. She’d have to add one more item to the list. Separate bedrooms weren’t enough.

No kissing. No touching. Only her son could matter, and her plans were clear. She needed this sham of a marriage only until she could make Bobby hers again. Michael had promised to keep his distance, but she could already feel how keeping her own could become a problem.

Just then he looked up and saw her. Quickly she dropped her hand, but she couldn’t seem to move.

He said something to the group and shook hands with Dr. Colton, but he hardly took his eyes off her. With that long ambling stride of his, he headed in her direction, his gaze holding her in place.

“Good morning,” he said, the smooth baritone voice sliding easily over her jangled nerves.

She slid one finger beneath her hair and tucked it behind her right ear, gripping the strap of her purse tightly with her other hand. “Good morning.”

He studied her. “You didn’t sleep. You need to rest, Suzanne. You’re worn out.”

Why was it he could make her temper kick up so
easily? “I’m perfectly fine. You needn’t worry about me.” She subjected him to the same perusal. “How did you sleep?”

The broad shoulders shrugged. “I slept great. Overslept, in fact.”

Damn him. He did look rested, at least more so than she felt.

A long pause ensued.

Michael broke it. “Have you had breakfast?”

She shook her head. “I’m not much on eating first thing in the morning.”

“Well, I’m starved. I only had an apple after my run.” He held out a hand. “Come have breakfast with me and we’ll make plans.”

Carefully, she avoided touching him. Taking his hand last night was where the problem started. “I’m not really hungry, but I suppose we do need to talk.”

Michael’s smile was too perceptive. He walked beside her down the hall and leaned closer. “So you’re not chickening out?”

Suzanne turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Not if it’s still what you want.”

What
she
wanted? Did she want this? She wanted her son, yes, but if there were any other way…

“Calculating your options?”

She saw his knowing smile. Why did he have to be so big, so thoroughly male? Feeling the heat of his
big body beside her, she was thrown back into last night, into how safe she’d felt tucked against him.

Safety was seductive, a luxury she couldn’t afford. The last time she’d felt safe, she’d been fifteen and wildly in love. It had been her last fling with innocence, with wholehearted abandon. The price had been high. Too high.

She settled for honesty. “I wish I could see an option, but I can’t. Only giving up Bobby, and I won’t do that again. What about you? Surely you’ve come to your senses and know how insane this is.”

“I gave you my word, Suzanne. I don’t welsh on commitments.” Her hair had swung out from behind her ear as she turned. With one long finger, he tucked it back.

Her breathing deepened. Everything stood still.

Then someone opened the door beside them. With a jolt, she blinked as if awakening from a dream.

Michael broke the contact, putting out one hand to hold the door open for her.

Suzanne brushed past him, very, very careful not to touch.

They were back in Ruby’s. Back in the same booth. But not the same people they were last night.

Michael sipped his coffee and studied the woman across from him. She was no longer in despair, but she was nervous. Really nervous. Her napkin was twisted and shredded on the ends.

“Suzanne, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I promise I’m not an ogre.”

Her head jerked upward. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Look, we don’t have to do this, you know. It’s going to be tough enough if we cooperate. Being at odds will only make things harder.”

She dropped her napkin and exhaled. “I know. I’m sorry. I just—” She stopped, stared behind him. Her face underwent a major change into horror, and she leaned forward, whispering. “Oh, no. Here comes Homer Wentworth’s wife.”

Michael leaned toward her. “Then I’d say we’d better put on a good show for the town gossip if we want to sell that we were overcome by passion and couldn’t wait.” He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. When she sucked in a quick breath, he reminded himself that this was all for show.

“Is she still looking?”

“Hmm?” Suzanne stiffened and looked behind him. “Oh. Yes.”

“Then you might want to smile as though you like it.”

“Right.” Quickly she treated him to a blinding smile.

He squeezed her hand and tried to ignore the jolt that accompanied every time he touched her. “That’s good. Maybe a little contrived, but—”

Suddenly she leaned across the table and put her mouth on his.

Just as quickly, she sat back on her seat, her violet eyes wide and a little too bright.

He knew how she felt. Maybe if they kissed a lot, it would get ordinary.

Yeah, right.

She arched one raven eyebrow. “Was that more convincing?”

Michael had to chuckle. Damned if he’d let her know that the punch landed straight to the gut. Whimpering might have been tempting, but it wouldn’t do for the mayor to howl at the moon. Especially on a bright Wednesday morning. “Yeah.” He exhaled forcefully. “That should work.”

“So,” she said with the faintest quiver in her voice. “How shall we do this?”

“I think Tahoe is our best bet. This weekend. We spend the rest of the week showing people that the sparks they’ve seen flying at council meetings have turned to something new, so it seems in character. Scales falling from the eyes, that sort of thing. We got under each other’s skin and one day we realized why.”

Her eyes were huge and uncertain as she studied him, but after a moment she nodded and looked down at her coffee cup. “I suppose that’s the best angle, some sort of physical reaction that got out of control. We can pretend that it’s true, that we got swept away. Then when it’s over, we’ll just say that we were too
hasty. Didn’t take enough time to know the other as a person.”

Pretend that it’s true? There was too much truth in it for comfort. She was lying to herself if she said otherwise. The body doesn’t lie, and he’d felt her respond to him. She couldn’t have missed his response to her.

But let her lie to herself all she wanted. It would make it easier for him to keep his hands to himself except in public.

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely and resisted a smile. “So how about if I make arrangements in Tahoe for Saturday? We can leave that morning and be back that afternoon.”

“It’s close to a five hour drive. We’d need to leave early.”

“We’ll be there in less than an hour. We’ll take my plane.”

She blinked, then her eyes widened. “You have your own plane?”

He shrugged. “It has its uses.”

Her voice cooled noticeably. “Right. Useful.”

“What?” He didn’t like her look.

“Nothing.” She glanced away.

“What, Suzanne? Remember Mrs. Wentworth behind us. It doesn’t look good for you to be scowling at me. That’s the old routine, remember?”

She glanced past him and pasted on a smile.

“That’s better. Now tell me what the problem is. Are you afraid to fly?”

She shook her head.

“Afraid to fly with me? I’m a good pilot. Not one accident, and I’ve been flying since I was sixteen. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? What’s the problem?”

She dropped the smile and leaned closer. “You’re really rich, aren’t you? Not just well-off but honestly rich.”

He shrugged. “I’m not Bill Gates, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that people will think I’m marrying you because you’re rich.”

He leaned closer. “Suzanne, I have a news flash for you. You
are
marrying me because I’m rich.” With a chuckle, he slid one hand into her hair and kissed her quickly, then let her go and tried to dodge the punch to his senses. “I guess it’s up to you to convince people it’s my body you’re truly after.”

He grinned, but it wasn’t funny, the corner they’d painted themselves into.

But laughing seemed the only solution.

On Saturday, Suzanne heard the knock on the door of the tiny garage apartment where she lived. She
glanced in the mirror one last time and saw her bloodless cheeks.

Was she crazy? She was about to marry a man she barely knew, a man with whom she had nothing in common but a need to appear to be happily married. It certainly wasn’t her girlish dream of her wedding day. She’d imagined the long white dress, the orange blossoms, the tall, handsome groom who was crazy in love with her.

Michael Longstreet was tall and handsome, but that was the only similarity she could find.

He knocked again, and she snapped shut her lipstick and left the tiny bathroom, not even stopping to check her appearance in the mirror. If she let herself reflect on the difference in this deep purple wool dress and the long white gown of her dreams, she was afraid she would break down.

Today was for Bobby’s sake. That was all that could matter. Even as she thought of his name, his dear face leaped into her mind, the black hair like her own, the blue eyes of his father. The precious sprinkle of freckles over his nose. He would be taller than her, thank goodness. Already his head came up to her shoulder.