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  “Damn it!” As if he needed this one last aggravation, the powers that be were plotting against him.

  He got out to survey the situation, his tennis shoes sinking up to his shoelaces in mud. After a quick tour around the car, he saw he’d need a tow truck to pull him out. His cellphone showed no signal. Of course. He had little choice but to walk the rest of the way to Phoebe’s place.

  He left the suitcase he’d packed in his trunk. Showing up at her door looking ready to move in would be hugely presumptuous and rude since he hadn’t warned her ahead of time. He tried to stay to solid ground, but it was soggy, and he ended up sinking to his ankles.

  Jonathon stared down at his jean legs and cursed. By the time he reached her home he looked as disheveled as he felt. A quaint, brown shingled ranch-style house greeted him, with a satellite dish on the roof. Trees made up the yard, and he noticed the windows were opened. The place was remote, and well suited to someone who made their living in the wilderness. He was used to the sounds of the city, but here only birds chirped in the trees. It felt like the island once more.

  He took a moment to clean what mud he could off his shoes and jeans legs, before he walked up to the door, lifted his hand, took a huge solidifying breath, and knocked. The door opened, and he stood face to face with Barb. Her eyes widened, and so did her mouth.

  “Uh, hi,” he said, all his planned words and explanations escaping him.

  Barb’s mouth opened and closed several times before she squeaked out a reply. “Hi.”

  They stared at one another until she stepped aside, motioning for him to come inside. She blocked him from going any farther, leaving the door open. She’ll boot me out the minute she doesn’t like my answers. A loyal friend. Then he’d have a long hike to find a phone signal to call a tow truck.

  “I-I hadn’t realized you were coming here. Phoebe didn’t mention it,” Barb explained.

  “That’s because Phoebe doesn’t know, to be honest.” He rubbed his hand over his hair, shoving the other in his pocket. “How is she?”

  Her gaze swept down to his muddy jeans and shoes. “Uh, well, she’s sleeping at the moment.”

  He glanced around the comfortably furnished living area. TV, sofa, an overstuffed chair with ottoman. Framed crayon artwork hung on the walls, and he guessed the artist to be Sarah.

  “Is…Sarah here?” he asked. Outside of the low voices carrying from the television, he heard nothing else.

  “No, she’s spending the night with a friend.” Barb folded her arms over her chest, standing up straighter, and a stern expression wrinkled her brow. A tall and imposing woman he didn’t particularly want to tangle with. “May I ask why you’re here, Mr. Breck?”

  Why am I here? To see Phoebe and Sarah? To face her rejection so he could leave with his tail tucked between his legs, and he could say he’d tried? “I wanted to see Phoebe.” He cleared his throat, his voice quavering with nervousness. “I haven’t… I mean, she hasn’t gotten in touch.” Lame words, he knew. The coward’s way to blame her for his own shortcomings.

  “She’s doing well.” Barb peered behind him. “Where’s your car?”

  “Stuck in mud down the road.”

  “Well, I’ll call my husband to pull you out. Wait here while I get my cellphone.”

  She isn’t going to let me see Phoebe. He frowned, determined. “Where’s Phoebe?”

  Barb picked up her cellphone. “I told you she’s sleeping. It was a rough night, and I don’t want to wake her. You can wait.” She looked up, lifting an eyebrow. “After all, it’s been over a month since she last saw you. Close the door.”

  Fair enough. He quietly shut the door and waited. Impatient, because he’d waited too long already. Whose fault is that though?

  “Is someone here?” Phoebe called from another area of the house.

  Jonathon’s heart jumped into his throat. Barb walked down the hall, talking with her husband on her phone, and Jonathon had no choice but to wait some more. Wondering if he’d be told to leave and never come back. He held his breath, nearly as terrified as he’d been hoping for rescue in the sinkhole.

  Barb reappeared, stern expression in place. “You can go in and see her. It’s the last bedroom on the right.”

  Jonathon nodded a thanks and walked down the hall. He stopped in the open doorway to the bedroom. Phoebe sat propped up in bed, her leg still in its cast. The television played some old black-and-white movie. She eyed him with both curiosity and annoyance. He noticed she looked tired, dark shadows marred the skin beneath her eyes. Her island tan had faded, leaving her pale.

  “You should’ve called or something,” she said in greeting. “Why would you show up here out of the blue?”

  He took a deep breath. “I didn’t have your number,” he answered then cringed with the excuse.

  “But somehow you got my address.” She folded her arms over her chest, adopting Barb’s sternness. “I’d think my phone number wouldn’t be much harder to find out.”

  She was definitely angry with his intrusion. He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. Her yellow flannel nightgown with little pink hearts was baggy. She was still thin.

  “Are you doing okay, Phoebe?” he asked.

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her anger wavered. “After a month you’ve finally decided to care?”

  Her voice revealed hurt, and guilt sank its teeth in.

  “I apologize, angel.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

  He closed his eyes, things were going downhill. He should’ve heeded the warning of his stuck car—maybe he wasn’t meant to come there. He opened his eyes and met her sad gaze. Her eyes glittered. Tears. Guilt wrenched tighter inside him.

  He floundered for his next words.

  “Why are you here?” she filled in.

  I’m here because I can’t get you out of my mind. Every day you’re with me, my entire life has changed in a way I can’t control. I’m here to prove myself as something greater than what I actually am…

  “Sarah,” he said.

  Her face flushed red. In a heartbeat she’d gone from hurt and tears to a protective wall to hide her child behind. “What’s to talk about? She’s my daughter, my daughter.”

  “She’s mine also,” he said gently. Butting heads with her would get him nowhere, but he wouldn’t give up easily. He’d come too far.

  He watched her eyes blaze bright. Then her wall breached. The tears she’d held back spilled down her cheeks. He crumbled. Not knowing what else to do, he went to her bedside and dropped down to his knees. She grabbed a tissue out of a tissue box on the nightstand and wiped her eyes.

  A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door. “You okay, Phoebe?” Barb asked through the closed door.

  Phoebe sniffed. “Yeah,” she called back. “I’m okay.”

  “My husband is on the way to tow your, er, friend’s car out of the mud. I’m going to go meet him. Call if you need me.”

  They remained silent until the front door click closed and Barb’s car started up. Phoebe looked down on Jonathon, her brown eyes shining with wetness.

  Then she asked the question he’d asked himself a hundred times and still hadn’t answered. “Why did you leave the hospital if you’re so willing to claim her?”

  Chapter 20

  Jonathon took Phoebe’s hand, his long fingers wrapping around hers. They were warm, and despite herself, she felt a tingle of awareness shoot through her nerve endings. His gaze held a storm as she lost herself within it—but only for a moment.

  “It was such a shock, but I make no excuses for my behavior.” His voice was husky with emotion. “I should’ve come to you long ago, but I honestly didn’t know what to say to you. Or to Sarah.”

  Her anger reignited with her protective instincts. “You’ll not say a word to Sarah. I won’t have you upsetting her world.” Or mine, she added silently.

  His thumb stroked the top of her hand, and damned if she
didn’t feel the warm currents of arousal pooling low in her belly. Why he should have such a visceral effect on her seemed cruelty. She tugged her hand free of his and folded it with the other one on her stomach. Beneath her cast, her leg itched something fierce.

  “I won’t barge into either of your lives, I promise,” Jonathon said. “But…but I really want to know her. And you. I mean, we have a connection in her. I’ll admit, I’ve always been careful with safe sex so I never imagined I’d find myself in this position.” He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Give me a few days. Just a couple of days, that’s all I ask.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “A few days for what?”

  “A chance to prove maybe I could be a father.”

  Phoebe sucked in a hard breath, his words like a kick in the gut when she heard them out loud. She looked away, staring at the television. Sarah had often asked where her father was, and Phoebe had done her best to straddle the line between lie and truth. He lives far away, sweetie. Too far away for us to be with him. Shamefully, it’d been the same untruth her mother had told her as a child, and she’d hated parroting the same empty words.

  Yet, allowing Jonathon to waltz into Sarah’s life was a mountain of a risk. She only had to recall her one ill-fated attempt to meet her own father and the horrendous heartache it’d caused. Her most important role as a mother was to protect her child from harm.

  While in the sinkhole, she’d thought it unfair to compare Jonathon to someone she’d only had a brief encounter with years before. But he’d stormed out of her hospital room without a backward look, and warning bells sounded as she carefully considered his words.

  “You’re not her father,” she said, though the statement barely passed more than a breath from her lips. She forced strength into her voice. “Her father was some drunk fraternity guy I slept with twelve years ago. It takes more than a broken condom to be a dad.”

  Jonathon inhaled then exhaled. “But I didn’t know, Phoebe. If you would’ve told me—”

  “What?” she snapped, interrupting him. “You would’ve been eager to play the daddy role? Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a parent? You have to put every one of your own wants on the back burner.” She glared into his face, into his eyes. “Would you have been able to do that? I’ve watched you for years through the tabloids, and there has to be an inkling of truth to all of those rampant rumors.”

  He drew up, squaring his shoulders, his face taking on a slight flush. “I’ll admit to a lot of my shortcomings. I do love women, I do love the parties, but God, Phoebe, I had no idea there was anything else out there for me.”

  The words weighed heavily between them. A spoiled playboy, and he fit the role well. Even now he seemed to be playing some role. Maybe he did want a taste of acting as a father, but how much would she risk? Definitely not breaking her child’s heart as hers was once broken.

  “Let me stay here,” he continued on. “I can take care of things like cooking and cleaning.”

  “I have Barb.”

  “But your friend has her own life I’m sure. I have nothing else to do.”

  She ground her teeth, searching for excuses, her anger and distrust still on low burn. She knew legally if Jonathon wanted to put up a fight for visitation, or even custody, he could do it. She chewed her top lip, wondering how far he’d push.

  A few days, but with well-set boundaries, wouldn’t hurt.

  “Okay, I’ll give you a few days as a test. But you are not to say a word to Sarah about being her father. I’ll tell her you’re an old friend, and it won’t go beyond that. She’s impressionable, and sensitive, I won’t have her hurt. If you pass… Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  Jonathon nodded. “Understood.”

  “And if at any time I want you gone, you’re gone, got it?”

  He nodded again, and his lazy smile appeared, lighting up his eyes. She felt the flutter of butterflies in her belly. Why did it feel like she’d sold her soul to the devil?

  He rubbed his hands together. “Great, put me to work. Laundry, dishes, a nice backrub?”

  The teasing light in his eyes sent goose pimples over her arms. She lifted her chin, wishing she wasn’t so helpless. The bad infection she’d developed around the break had battled the massive doses of antibiotics she’d had and slowed healing. Until she got out of her cast she was pretty much bedridden and at other people’s mercy. A feeling she despised.

  “You could make lunch, if you’re hungry,” she said. “Sandwich stuff is in the fridge. I think Barb was going to do a load of laundry.”

  He left her bedroom, and she heard him moving around in the kitchen. She hated having him in her home, and she analyzed her decision to let him stay for a few days. He was little more than a stranger, one she gambled on not upsetting her daughter’s life. Maybe Jonathon viewed this as a game. The thought left a sour feeling in her gut. Sarah had made a brief appearance on What’s New In Gossip, and Phoebe hoped this wasn’t his attempt to keep the media interested.

  Sarah would be staying the night with her friend, giving Phoebe a chance to lay down firmer ground rules with Jonathon. She’d make sure he understood how having a child wasn’t simply a passing whim. Maybe some fathers did that, but no dad of Sarah’s would. She’d often wished and dreamed she could find the right man to play the role for her daughter. She deserved someone who would value and cherish her. Dote on her and even spoil her a bit. And Phoebe had serious doubts on Jonathon’s abilities.

  Am I being fair to him though? Or am I bitter and upset he lost interest in me so quickly. Is it Sarah’s welfare I’m worried about or my own hurt pride?

  Thirty minutes passed. She wondered what was taking him so long when he reappeared in her bedroom, carrying a tray full of food. He set it down before her, flashing her his biggest smile. Sandwich, soup, salad, and he’d even found one of the cupcakes Sarah had brought home from a recent birthday party.

  “I can also throw together decent breakfasts that don’t involve snakes or grubs.” He winked and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

  “I can’t eat all of this,” she said, staring at what he’d brought her.

  His gaze skimmed her blankets, and she felt a tactile pleasure dance over her skin. “It looks like you’ve dropped a lot of weight since the island,” he said. “It won’t hurt for you to gain a few pounds.”

  True, she hadn’t been able to gain back the fifteen pounds she’d lost on the island, and she’d lost another five thanks to loss of muscle tone. The pain in her leg was only now getting manageable, before it’d been hard to eat or do much of anything except hide her discomfort from Sarah. She’d put on a brave face for her daughter when she’d felt like she was being broken in two every day. Addictive pain medication simply wasn’t an option. Perhaps as foolhardy as refusing an epidural during labor, but she didn’t want to deal with the withdrawals while weaning herself off of it.

  “Where’s your food?” Phoebe asked.

  “I’ll grab the rest of the soup and a sandwich.” He walked to the bedroom door then paused. He looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, Phoebe, for letting me stay.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to fully meet his eyes. He thinks he’s won me over. Well, we’ll see about that.

  She nibbled at her food until Jonathon returned with a plate. He took the chair which sat near the bed, crossed his ankle over his knee, and started watching TV. Her appetite fled her once more, his nearness stirring up memories she didn’t need. Riding him beneath the thick canopy of the island jungle. His taste, his touch, his masculine scent.

  “You don’t have to stay in here, you can watch TV in the living room,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint.

  “A good servant stays with his mistress in case she needs something else. Like more iced tea?” He lifted an eyebrow, eyeing her half-empty glass of tea on the nightstand.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  He took a bite of his sand
wich, and she watched as he chewed. He hadn’t shaved that day and the stubble of beard growth gave him a rakish look, as if he needed to look even more a rake. She remembered his beard on the island and almost wanted to see him in it again. Things had seemed so complicated back then, yet compared to now, it’d been incredibly simple. The needs of basic survival. The feel of his hands and his mouth… His hair had gotten a little long at the collar, curling at the nape of his neck. Perfect hair to run her fingers through as he took her with his mouth.

  She clamped her teeth together, angry with her wandering thoughts. She shoveled food into her mouth as a distraction, barely tasting a bite, until she had the soup eaten and a good portion of the salad and sandwich finished. Finally she pushed the tray away, her belly stuffed. She hadn’t eaten that much in a while. Jonathon looked pleased as he finished off his meal and rose to take the tray away.

  “Where’s your washing machine?” he asked. “I’ll do the laundry now.”

  “In the garage. The dirty laundry should already be in there.” She fiddled with her blanket. Nature called, and without Barb there to help, the trip to the bathroom felt miles and miles away. What’s taking her so long to get back with Jonathon’s car? Her cellphone beeped on her nightstand. She grabbed it up, seeing a text message from Barb. She and her husband had business to take care of in town before towing Jonathon’s car to her place. Phoebe let out a frustrated sigh.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurting? Should I get you some medicine or something?” Jonathon’s look of almost panic surprised her.

  “No, I just have to, uh, use the restroom.” She looked beyond him to the open bathroom door across the hallway. “It’s an ordeal getting from here to there.”

  “Oh. That’s no problem, I’ll carry you.”

  He reached for her but she batted his hands away.

  “No,” she said, appalled by the idea of him helping her do something quite so personal. Damn iced tea. “I can do it. I have to when Barb isn’t here.”

  Well, not exactly true, she’d had to use a bedpan up until two weeks ago. But then she’d had a home healthcare nurse staying with her when Barb wasn’t around. Afterward it was a matter of holding it until her friend arrived to help her with the hobbling journey.