The Daddy Dilemma

“Whether she’s willing to be a full-time mother really isn’t the issue,” Galen protested. “Letting her spend a little time with Kyle is.”

While Galen’s words batted against Nathan’s heart, he could hear Sara’s voice in his head. I was in an accident and had to have a hysterectomy.

His gut clenched. A coward would take the easy way out. A coward would take the safe route. A coward would forget about Sara Hobart. Forget she even existed. She had no rights, no say, no claim on his son. Yet…

Leaving his dad, Nathan walked back into Kyle’s hospital room, stood by the bed and looked down at him. His son’s eyes were closed, but he knew they were the same green as Sara’s. Shouldn’t he at least find out if she was Kyle’s mother?

A DNA test for the three of them was a huge step, one he had to think seriously about before acting on. This wasn’t the kind of decision he was impulsively going to make in the aftermath of a crisis.

Maybe tomorrow morning he’d know what to do.

Saturday afternoon, when there was a knock on Sara’s office door, she looked up, expecting to see another of the firm’s associates who was working on the weekend, as she was. Ever since her visit to Rapid Creek, she’d worked practically nonstop, billing more hours than she had before her accident. She hadn’t known what else to do to keep her mind off Kyle.

Her gaze fell to the picture of Kyle on her desk, the one she’d taken with her camera phone. It was grainy and not very good, but it was something.

“Come in,” she called, since the door didn’t open at once as she’d expected it to.

When it did open, and she saw the man standing there, her world spun a little too fast. She wasn’t dizzy, exactly, but she felt disoriented and definitely off balance. Was she seeing things?

“Can I come in?”

The deep voice was the same. The brown hair falling over his forehead was the same. The jawline Kyle had inherited was the same. Nathan Barclay stood in her office, and she was speechless.

He frowned. “I stopped by your apartment. Since it seemed deserted, I took a chance you might be working.”

Finally she managed to string a few words together. “What are you doing here?”

He came further into the office. Wearing boots, jeans and a red-and-black flannel jacket, he didn’t look as if he belonged in the city. “I could give you the short version or the longer version. Which would you prefer?” His gaze dropped to the photograph of Kyle on her desk. “Where did that come from?”

“My camera phone. I only took the one. I just wanted something…” She trailed off, thinking she shouldn’t have to explain.

Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else. How late will you be working?”

She closed the folder for the lease agreement she’d been studying. “I could be finished now if this is about Kyle.”

He nodded. “It’s about Kyle.”

“Is anything wrong? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. Now. We need to go someplace we can talk in private. A restaurant wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“We can go to my place. Did you drive down from Rapid Creek?”

“No, I flew in. But I rented a car.”

“Is it in the parking garage?”

“Yes.”

On her visit to Rapid Creek she’d realized Nathan was a man of few words. At least with her. She wondered if he was like that with everyone, or only people he didn’t know well or didn’t want to know well. She got the idea his being here wasn’t entirely voluntary. “I’m parked there, too. You can follow me to my place.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, but she had the feeling that nothing was fine. Just why was he here?

Pushing a few files into her briefcase, she could feel his gaze on her. His appraisal made her self-conscious. When she lifted her jacket from a wooden captain’s chair, she dropped it.

Close by, Nathan picked it up and handed it to her. Their gazes met and she felt impacted by the intensity in his gray eyes. She was suddenly glad he would follow her and they wouldn’t be occupying the same vehicle. She needed time to compose herself and to adjust to him being here, and what that might mean.

Apparently he didn’t want to discuss whatever it was on the phone. She’d expected never to see him again. Never to see Kyle again. But now a little flare of hope almost made her giddy.

Twenty minutes later Sara was letting Nathan into her apartment, trying to remember exactly what state it was in. She hadn’t been there much lately, only to sleep. It was too lonely. Too quiet. But most of all, she was surrounded by too many things her mother had loved. At first after her mom died, keeping her antiques, using them herself, had felt comforting. But after Sara’s accident, and after seeing Kyle, the furniture had caused her heart to ache even more.

Nathan had stopped inside the doorway and was taking it all in, from the claw-foot table and double-globed Quoizel lamp, to the lacy doilies on the arms of the camel-back sofa covered in a pretty pink flowered damask, to the Victorian lace curtains at the windows.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, noticing his expression, which seemed a bit puzzled.

“This isn’t at all what I expected,” he admitted.

“I’m afraid to ask what you did expect.” Her smile was wry and she was hoping he’d relax a little bit with her. On the other hand, it might be better if he didn’t. If he relaxed she might not be able to keep her distance as well. One thing she knew about Nathan Barclay—from the pictures of his deceased wife all over his house, to his wariness about her and any claims she might have concerning Kyle—she needed to keep her distance. She’d had enough heartache in her life not to even consider giving in to a little bit of chemistry that might ripple between them.

“I expected you to live in a modern glass-and-steel condo with contemporary paintings on the walls. I never imagined lace and antiques.”

“The antiques were my mother’s. They weren’t antiques when she bought them at yard sales and thrift shops years ago. But she had a good eye and a talent with fabric that I didn’t inherit.”

“You just got rid of your furniture?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Believe me, it was nothing I was attached to. Except for that rocker.” She pointed to a wooden rocking chair with lions carved onto the back. “That I found for myself when I was in law school. Mom taught me how to look for bargains at yard sales. It had about ten coats of paint on it. It cleaned up great, don’t you think?”

“You refinished it?”

“Sure. Lye water, steel wool, glue here and there.” She headed for her kitchen, which was small but cheery, with its yellow, polished-cotton valance over the window, and philodendron hanging in one corner. “Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee.”

A long counter separated the living room from the kitchen, with a post at each end rising to the ceiling. After taking off her jacket and hanging it over a dining room chair, she quickly poured water into the tank of the coffeepot. She measured out chocolate-flavored coffee, which was all she had, and switched the pot on.

Sneaking a glance at Nathan, she noticed him unzip his jacket and lay it over the back of the sofa. He wandered about, studying the titles on her bookshelves. A duplicate picture of Kyle sat on the coffee table. She felt…naked having his dad look around her place like this. Intuition told her he was absorbing everything he could about her. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Producing a copper tray from a cupboard, she set two mugs of coffee on it, a carton of nonfat creamer, and sugar packets she kept for guests. Then she carried it to the coffee table and lowered herself to the sofa cushion, hoping Nathan would sit, too. He was making her jittery just being here.

But if she thought she was jittery before, when he came over and sat beside her, she knew the true meaning of the word. When she’d visited Rapid Creek, she’d attributed her reaction to him to the situation, meeting Kyle for the first time and being stirred up about all of it. Now, however, she realized the man himself disturbed her…made her suddenly feel…hot.

Pouring a liberal amount of creamer into her mug, she picked it up, took a few bolstering sips, then set it on a coaster. “So tell me why you’re here.”

She was half afraid he was going to tell her he was having a restraining order placed upon her, so that she wouldn’t come anywhere near him or Kyle. But maybe that was just the lawyer in her being paranoid.

“I came to ask you to spend Thanksgiving with us in Rapid Creek.”

Nothing he might have said could have surprised her more. “You want me to spend Thanksgiving with you and Kyle?” She had to clarify so she was sure she hadn’t misunderstood.

“This isn’t what I want,” he told her bluntly, “but I think it’s necessary. We need to have DNA testing done to find out if you’re Kyle’s mother.”

“Why is this necessary now, when it wasn’t ten days ago? In fact, you didn’t want me anywhere around. Why the about-face?”

After a few beats of silence, he replied, “Because Kyle had a serious asthma attack. He could have died.”

“Oh, my Lord.” She felt the color drain from her face as the reality of his words sunk in.

Nathan swore. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Although he might not want to admit it, she could see he was still upset by whatever had occurred. “Tell me what happened.”

“Kyle has never had an attack this serious before. He had the one when he was three…one last year…but nothing since. Just wheezing sometimes.” He told her about taking Kyle to the store to buy clothes, the possibility of fabric smells or perfume setting off the attack.

“You didn’t say anything about perfume when I came to visit.”

“You weren’t wearing any.”

No, she wasn’t. Because perfume bothered some of her clients, she was careful about the products she chose. But the fact that Nathan Barclay had noticed that…well, of course he would have noticed if he was protective of Kyle.

“So you don’t know for sure what caused it?”

“My father has another theory.”

“And that is?”

“Kyle has been different, more quiet, more subdued since your visit. Dad feels there was an unconscious connection between the two of you and Kyle felt the loss of that. He looked for something from you in the mail every day. Emotional stress can be a component in an asthma attack.”

“You didn’t want me to have any contact! You told me not to write…to stay out of Kyle’s life.”

“I know. Possibly I was wrong. Maybe I underestimated his need of a woman your age in his life.”

“You don’t believe we had a connection because I’m his mother and he’s my son?”

“We don’t know that. I don’t believe you two bonded because of some mystical mother-son thread. You played with Kyle…with his fire trucks. You read him stories. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

“Mr. Barclay—”

“It’s Nathan,” he said curtly. “If we’re going to be around each other, if you’re going to be under my roof, we might as well be on a first-name basis.”

“You want me to stay in your house rather than the lodge?” she asked in astonishment.

“The whole point of this is for you to spend time with Kyle, isn’t it?”

“And if I’m not his mother?”

“Then he’ll have made a new friend. You can write to him and he can write back, and we can all relax.”

Was this really so simple for him? “When are you returning to Rapid Creek?”

“Tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be away too long. The doctor changed Kyle’s medication, and he seems to be doing fine. But I don’t want to take any chances.”

She did some quick calculating, weighing pros and cons, responsibility in her job against responsibility for a boy who could be her son. “I can’t fly back with you tomorrow. But I think I’ll be able to arrange everything by Tuesday. Would that be all right?”

“Tuesday would work out well. My brother Ben is flying in Wednesday night. We can keep Kyle’s excitement to small doses.”

Sara wondered again if Nathan was trying to protect Kyle a little too much…and if that might not be the basis of the whole problem. But she couldn’t put forth that theory until she learned more about Kyle and Nathan, how they related, and more about asthma itself. On the other hand, Nathan probably wouldn’t want to hear what she thought about it. Even if she was Kyle’s biological mother, she still had no legal claim, no parental claim, because of the release form she’d signed. She had to simply try to keep everything on an even keel with Nathan and not upset the proverbial apple cart. Most important, she had to prove she could be a healthy influence in Kyle’s life. In addition, she’d like to get a handle on Nathan. Try to get to know him a little better before she landed on his turf again.

She asked, “Did you check into a motel?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because I have a spare bedroom. You’re welcome to sleep here tonight if you’d like. If I’m going to be spending time at your house, it only seems fair.”

His eyes locked on hers. “Are you sure you want a houseguest on such short notice?”

Trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, she smiled. “I was a Girl Scout. I’m always prepared. I have extra towels, a new bar of soap and clean sheets on the guest room bed. Your staying will be no trouble at all.”

Yet as she noticed the intensity in his dark eyes, the beard stubble lining his jaw, the lines around his mouth and his taut, nicely shaped lips, she suddenly realized inviting him to stay the night could cause her trouble with a capital T.

Her heart sped up while she waited for his answer, and she didn’t know whether to hope he’d accept her offer or leave for a motel!

Chapter Three

As Nathan stared up at the ceiling of Sara’s spare room, with the subtle scent of lavender escaping from a dish on the dresser, he reminded himself again that staying here was the practical and convenient thing to do. After all, he’d be leaving first thing in the morning. What did it matter where he bedded down for the night?

It mattered.

When he’d accepted her invitation, she’d told him straight out that she wouldn’t bother him, that he could pretend he was staying at a hotel, that she had some work to do on her computer in her bedroom and he could make himself a sandwich, open the package of cookies on the counter, help himself to whatever he could find.

That’s what he’d done, and he’d turned in early.

Levering himself up in the double bed now, he switched on the bedside lamp. He felt so out of place here. This wasn’t a motel. The furniture wasn’t impersonal. Sara had told him this brass bed had been hers when she was a child. The blue-and-white-striped spread and coordinating curtains were obviously new. But the snow globe with the castle on the dresser, the photograph of Sara and her mother in the crystal frame on the nightstand, the faded latch-hook rug with butterflies and flowers next to the bed, were belongings Sara clearly cherished.

He realized he was trying to get to know this woman without actually getting to know her. Maybe he was just searching for signs or signals that would warn him if there were dangerous waters ahead. His eyes fell on the paperback thriller poking out of his duffel bag. But then his stomach grumbled. He might as well get something to eat and spend the next hour reading. Maybe then he could doze off.

Listening for a moment, he didn’t hear a sound in the apartment, and suspected Sara was already sound asleep.

He’d brought navy flannel sleeping shorts for his overnight stay. He hadn’t figured he’d need anything else, alone in a motel room. He could put on his jeans. Nah. He’d be in and out of the kitchen in a couple of minutes.

When he passed Sara’s room, he was relieved to see no light shone under the door. He switched on the hall light soundlessly, then went down the short corridor to the dining room. As he passed through it, he saw the hood light glowing over the stove in the kitchen. At the same moment, he realized Sara was standing at the sink, likely as startled to see him as he was to see her. She was wearing a fuchsia nightshirt with Peace embroidered across the front in sparkly letters. The sleeves went to her elbows, while the V-neck hinted at her cleavage.

He quickly pulled his gaze up to her face, but that wasn’t a whole lot better. Her blond hair was tousled. Her big green eyes were wide with surprise. Devoid of makeup, her flawless skin asked to be touched.

He stopped, not sure whether to proceed or retreat. Her gaze was glued to his bare chest for a moment, then dropped lower, to the elastic band on his shorts. His equilibrium went haywire.

Finally, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks a little flushed, she said, “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“And I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You need another pillow or comforter or—?”

“No, Sara. I’m just fine.” Then he said the first thing that came into his head. “My stomach was grumbling.”

Her hand fluttered toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself. There’s still plenty of sandwich fixings. I’m trying warm milk. Want some?”

He wrinkled his nose. “That idea never appealed to me.”

She laughed, and the sound awakened something in his heart, something shadowy that had been lost since Colleen had died.

“You have to add a little honey and a square of chocolate so that it becomes a magic sleeping potion,” she said.

He chuckled. “Magic is right.”

“Don’t turn up your nose if you haven’t tried it.”

There was something completely unpretentious about Sara that he couldn’t help but like. “I’ll pass for tonight.”

Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a package of ham, along with cheese, and grabbed the mustard and a head of lettuce. When he took the items to the counter, Sara passed him the loaf of bread. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra under the nightshirt. Why would she, to sleep?

Since that thought almost made him break into a sweat, he concentrated on making sandwiches. “Want one?” he asked as she stood there, silently stirring her milk.

“No, thanks. If I make a sandwich and sleep on it, I’ll be wearing a few extra pounds in the morning.”

Before he thought better of it, he muttered, “I doubt that.”

She looked surprised at his comment and her cheeks became a little pinker. Switching off the burner, she poured her milk concoction into a mug. “Do you want to eat alone or do you want company?”

Although he’d rather just take his sandwiches to his room and dive into the thriller—that was the safe thing to do—he thought a little conversation might be a good tactic before Sara actually moved into his house for a couple of days. The only problem was, that damn V-neckline distracted him.

“Company’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to sleep when we’re finished,” he decided.

When he took the plate of sandwiches to the table, she followed, and he had the feeling she was inspecting him as they walked. What a weird sensation that gave him. How long had it been since a woman checked him out? He supposed turnabout was fair play, but the idea was arousing. He quickly sat at the table.

After she set her mug at the place mat, she went back to the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice and snagged a glass from the cupboard.

“Thanks,” he murmured, wondering if her thoughtfulness was a part of who she was or a part she played whenever she had a guest. He wondered if she had guests often…especially men guests.

Seated around the corner from him, she crossed her legs under the table. Her toes brushed his ankle and a jolt of fire leaped up his leg.

She looked a bit embarrassed as she shifted to the far edge of her chair, putting more distance between them. “So is the article I read about you accurate?” she asked. “Were you a financial analyst once upon a time?”

“Yes, I was. I was with an investment banking firm. I was on the fast track to becoming a rich, powerful mover and shaker.”

He’d said it so tongue-in-cheek, she laughed. “You didn’t want all that?”

“Back then I wanted it…before I knew what was really important.”

Her eyes were wide again. “What did you find that was really important?”

“When I got married, I knew my marriage was important, but I think my job was still at the top of the list. I was headed up and nothing was going to stop me.”

She stirred her hot milk. “Kyle’s birth did?”

Obviously, she was tiptoeing around the death of Colleen and Kyle’s twin. Hesitating before he answered, he finally admitted, “Not Kyle’s birth. The attempts to have a child. Most couples take the whole process for granted…at least, I always did. I figured I’d get married someday, have kids, send them to college, retire and enjoy life. But Colleen and I hit a roadblock right out of the gate. She was thirty-two when we started trying to have kids, and we didn’t think there would be a problem. But after two years, she still wasn’t pregnant. We both had all kinds of testing done. At age thirty-four then, she had an elevated follicle stimulating hormone level. The specialist told us as she grew older and those levels rose, the likelihood of having genetically abnormal eggs also escalated. So we decided to try in vitro with an egg donor.”

He’d thought about this over and over…analyzed every step. “Going back over everything that happened, I wonder if we weren’t meant to be childless. The testing, the in vitro, was tough on our marriage. When Colleen stroked out during the delivery process, I felt as if we’d gone against fate or something.”

Gazing into Sara’s eyes, he saw that she understood, maybe because of the losses she’d suffered.

She reached out and touched his hand. “You can’t think that.”

The contact was like fire, and he jerked his hand away. He’d loved his wife, but here he was, talking about her and his marriage, yet feeling some sort of chemistry with this woman he didn’t even know.

He bet the chemistry would quit when he questioned her about the money she received for donating her eggs. Maybe she did it to subsidize her high-powered career.

“Why did you donate your eggs? Did you need the money for college?” He tried to keep his voice non-judgmental. She might tell him it was none of his business.

She looked down at her hands and for a moment he thought maybe she felt guilty about it. After all, she could have used the ten thousand on a new car.

But then Sarah lifted her gaze to his, and the emotion in her eyes told him something else was coming…something he never expected.

“My mom became ill. She needed a bone marrow transplant but that treatment was considered experimental with her condition. Her insurance company wouldn’t pay.”

“Ten thousand dollars wouldn’t be nearly enough for that!”

“No, it wasn’t. But our church began holding fund-raisers. It seemed everyone in town wanted to help. But even with that, we were short on the down payment. The money I received along with the rest enabled my mom to start treatment.”

He’d been wrong about Sara’s motives and so had Ben. Chances were good they’d wanted to think the worst of her. That would make the whole situation easier…easier to push her out of Kyle’s life. But the woman before him had been willing to sacrifice for her mother. And after all that, tragedy had struck again.

“Tell me about your accident,” he requested gently.

“Do you really want to know the details?”

No, he didn’t. But for some reason he felt it was essential he gathered all the facts about Sara Hobart. Maybe he could figure her out then and what she truly wanted.

“Does it bother you to talk about it?”

“No.” She amended her answer. “Yes. Just when I think I’ve put it behind me, I remember I can never have children and it’s all there again.”

“I read the account of it on the Internet,” he admitted.