Come Home to Me

“Why not?”

“For starters, he and Dylan fight like crazy.”

“Doesn’t matter. Aaron would never tell a soul. I know he wouldn’t. He loves Dylan as much as I do. He’d do whatever was necessary to ensure Dylan’s happiness, especially if he understood what Dylan’s going through right now—how emasculating this is for him.”

Presley had to agree. Aaron had his issues, but he was loyal to the bone and, whether he’d admit it or not, he admired Dylan more than any other person on earth.

But there were as many reasons to reject Cheyenne’s idea as there were to consider it.

“Are you sure it’s time to resort to fertility treatments? It’s only been a couple of years. Maybe his sperm count will go up.”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“How do you know?”

“I spoke to my doctor.”

“And?”

“She said there’s always a chance we could get pregnant, but in our case it would be slight. She suggested we look into alternatives.”

“Are there things you can do to increase that chance?”

“We’ve already done everything we can. We started trying for a baby almost as soon as we were married. The past six months, I’ve been taking my temperature and tracking ovulation. And I’ve never been on the pill. I was a virgin until I slept with him, remember? So it’s not as if we can blame the delay on the contraceptives we’ve used. If I was going to conceive in the usual way, it should’ve happened by now.”

“Maybe not—”

“I’m out of time. This is really upsetting Dyl. I want a baby, too, of course. Badly. But he’s feeling it was a mistake for me to marry him.”

Presley slid Wyatt’s toys closer to him with one foot. “I’m sorry about that, but there are so many risks when you’re using a known sperm donor.” Her mind was racing through them. “I mean, on some level, it makes sense to use Aaron. The baby will be closely related to Dyl and will look like him and all of that, so there’s a much better chance he’d never find out.”

“And I know Aaron’s medical history, know he’s healthy. Unless you think the drugs he took in the past—”

“No. He smoked pot now and then, but he didn’t do nearly as much crack as I did. He’s fine. But what about how Aaron might feel, looking at your child and knowing it’s his? Would he be able to handle that?”

“For Dylan’s sake? I think so. Aaron’s tough. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. He’d never go back on his word.”

But he was sensitive, too. That was what so many people didn’t understand about him—that his toughness protected a very soft heart. “He might regret it.”

“Why would he regret making his brother happy? We’d take excellent care of the child. And he can have other kids if he wants.”

Presley had made having a secret Aaron baby look easy. She hadn’t even meant to get pregnant, and here she was with Wyatt. No doubt that figured into her sister’s thoughts. “It would be a perfect plan if there was some way we could get Aaron’s sperm without him knowing,” she mused. “Like I did—by accident. But how could we ever do that?”

“We couldn’t. He’d have to go to a clinic and bank the sperm, and I’d have to go there afterward.”

“Without telling Dylan?”

“Yes, without telling Dylan!”

“Would a clinic do that?”

“Fortunately, we live in the most liberal state in the country when it comes to things like that. I asked an online doctor at one of those expert advice sites. According to her, there’s no law that a husband has to give his consent. She also said some clinics might demand it, but that I could find one that won’t.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Aaron has the same last name as my husband.”

“You’d have him pose as your partner?”

“Why not? I’d just need to go to a clinic or doctor that isn’t affiliated with the hospital where I’ll be giving birth. Otherwise, the fact that I was artificially inseminated would be noted on my chart, and one of the nurses could let it slip.”

“I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this. But that brings up another point. What if Dylan found out? If not now, then later? In five or ten years? How would he feel about it?”

When Cheyenne spoke again, her voice was soft, defeated. “What am I doing? You’re right. That would be terrible. It won’t work.”

“And yet you can’t help going back to the possibility.”

“It would solve everything,” she said. “Using Aaron’s sperm instead of Dylan’s seems like such a...a technicality. It wouldn’t make any difference to me if I had Aaron’s child. Aaron’s so much like my husband. I love them both. And Dylan would adore a child. You’ve seen how he is with Wyatt.”

“He’d be a good father.” There was no question about that. “But...why not adopt?”

“That comes with as many risks.”

“True, but—”

“Anyway, I’m not opposed to it. I could see us adopting at some point. I just need Dylan to believe he gave me one.”

“To salvage all that male pride?”

“It’s the way he is,” she said defensively. “And I wouldn’t change him even if I could. Pride’s one of the things that carried him through the hard times, that gave him the determination he needed to soldier on. It’s—”

“You want to do this,” Presley broke in, going straight to the bottom line.

“If it’ll make Dylan feel better, I do. But I’m scared, too.”

Now that she wasn’t so shocked by the idea, Presley tried to be more open-minded. In a way, it did seem like a technicality that it wouldn’t be Dylan’s sperm. She’d want to save her husband the humiliation and anguish, too, if she had a husband like Dylan and that husband had a brother like Aaron. “I guess you wouldn’t be the first person to use a known donor.”

“People do it all the time.”

More knowledge gleaned from the internet? “Without the consent of their spouse? I still think that’s asking for trouble.”

“It’s not like I intend to sleep with Aaron, Pres. I won’t be cheating. Is it really that terrible to use, with the donor’s permission, some DNA that’s very similar to my husband’s? What Dylan doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Presley sat on the edge of the couch and massaged her forehead. She’d used almost the same logic. Which led to the same conclusion. “Unless he finds out.”

“He won’t,” Cheyenne argued. “Who’s going to tell him? Me? You? Aaron? None of us! It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless we make it a big deal.”

“If you do this, we’ll both have children by Aaron.” She chuckled, although it wasn’t funny.

“Maybe it’s time to tell him about Wyatt, since that could figure into his decision.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Cheyenne wanted to end the anxiety that keeping her secret created. But Presley wasn’t ready, wasn’t willing to trade a release of anxiety for what could happen if Aaron found out. “Not yet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Wyatt’s too little. Maybe when he gets older, when he’s capable of making his own choices.”

“Okay, but...if I go to Aaron about this...donation, do you think he’ll demand we tell Dylan?”

“My bet? He’d rather Dylan not know. That way, it can’t get awkward between them.” The Aaron she knew wouldn’t want or need the credit. He was like that. Bighearted, magnanimous and sensitive to the delicate balance that made it possible to continue having a relationship with Dylan. Some people took home stray dogs or cats. Aaron took home stray people. She had a feeling he’d only befriended her initially because she’d been so isolated from the rest of Whiskey Creek. The night he’d sought her out at Sexy Sadie’s she’d been sitting in a corner alone. He’d walked over and said something about being her neighbor before inviting her to his table.

“I should talk to him, then?” Cheyenne asked.

“If you’re really convinced it’ll make things better for Dylan.”

“You wouldn’t mind if...if I also had a child by Aaron?”

“You felt you had to ask me?”

“Because of Wyatt I thought I should.”

“I have no claim on Aaron.” Wyatt and her baby would be half brothers instead of cousins, but why would that matter? “Our children can grow up together here in Whiskey Creek.”

“It’ll be a far nicer childhood than ours was.”

“No kidding,” Presley agreed with a weak laugh. She especially felt sorry for Cheyenne. She would’ve had a very different life if Anita hadn’t stolen her from her birth family. At least Anita was Presley’s real mother. “So when are you going to approach him?”

“I have to do it soon, before Dylan works up the nerve to go to the doctor, or there’ll be no point.”

Presley tried to picture her sister asking Aaron to donate his sperm. “That should be a very interesting conversation.”

6

Riley wasn’t there when Presley returned. Presley considered that a lucky break. Although she’d baked two apple pies, one for each of her helpers as a thank-you, it would be a lot easier to talk to Aaron if they had a few minutes alone.

Now she had that. Because she’d walked Wyatt over to Cheyenne’s before loading the pies in his stroller, she didn’t have the challenge of trying to restrain her son.

This is the perfect opportunity. Aaron’s just a regular man.

Except that wasn’t true. He meant the world to her....

Reminding herself that that was before and not now, she summoned her courage, swung open the door and leaned against it so she could wheel the pies inside. Aaron was wearing headphones, listening to music on his iPod while he painted, but her movements must’ve caught his eye. He turned and pulled the buds from his ears.

“You’re back,” he said as he climbed off the ladder.

Would he be glad to get the pie? It was the one thing she used to make for him. But Ruthie at Just Like Mom’s served good apple pie, too, so he probably hadn’t missed it any more than he’d missed her. “Where’s Riley?”

“He went to take care of something with his kid.”

The smile he flashed her reminded her that they were alone together on a Saturday night for the first time in twenty-six months. It also made her feel like she was clinging to a rock as the ocean tried to drag her out to sea.

Just hang on...

“Sorry I’ve been gone all day.” It was almost eight o’clock. She’d fallen asleep when Wyatt napped and slept for three hours. Then it’d taken longer to make the pies than she’d expected, since she’d had to scrap her first attempt. She rarely ate sugar these days, was rusty in the kitchen. And once she got the pies out of the oven she was further delayed while deciding what to wear. She’d tried on four different outfits and, for the first time since leaving Whiskey Creek, she even vacillated over her selection of panties, eventually settling on the sheer black bra and thong her friend Roger gave her for her last birthday (while he tried to talk her into “living again”).

Wearing lingerie was silly, since no one was going to see it. But what was the point of letting such beauty languish in the back of her drawer? Aaron made her feel sexy and young again—even if she couldn’t act on the desire he aroused.

“No problem. I’ve been busy, anyway.” He gestured at the work he’d done. “What do you think?”

She’d been rehearsing what she planned to say, had been so focused on it that she hadn’t looked at what he’d accomplished in her absence. But now that he’d drawn her attention to the walls, she was so impressed she couldn’t possibly start in on her “I forgive you, you didn’t owe me anything” speech. Not immediately.

“It’s beautiful!” she breathed, and meant it. She’d picked out a buttery yellow, one that reminded her of the sun. She’d wanted her studio to be uplifting and soothing, since both of her businesses dealt with stress relief. But he’d added a new element. The walls were the yellow she’d requested, but he’d painted the trim black—the baseboards, the doorframes and the window casings. It looked so stylish she almost couldn’t believe this was the same drab space she’d rented.

“I knew it would be nice,” he said, standing back to survey the effect.

She left the stroller in the middle of the room and moved closer to the wet paint. “Someone told you it wouldn’t?”

“Harvey down at the hardware store was pushing me to call you. He thought you should go with white trim, until I showed him the picture.”

“What picture?”

“The one I found in a magazine while I was waiting for him to help me.”

“What magazine? Martha Stewart Living?”

“A Ralph Lauren paint brochure.”

She pivoted to face him. “You bought designer paint? But...there’s no way I gave you enough money for that.”

“It came close,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not worried about the difference. I wanted it to make a statement, and it does.”

“I would’ve been happy with something much simpler. You’re already donating the labor. Why go to the added expense?”

He held her gaze. “It’s my way of telling you I’m sorry, Presley.”

So she’d guessed right. Apparently, she knew him as well as she thought she did, and since he’d brought up the subject himself, she no longer had to search for a way to approach it. “I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Aaron. How could I? You never made me any promises.”

“But the last night I saw you...”

“Don’t mention that night.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think of it.”

His expression grew even more sympathetic. “It was that bad?”

The days she’d spent with the man who’d provided her with drugs in Arizona were mostly a blur, and she was grateful for that. She could hardly believe she’d been through the degradation she did remember. “It’s over. There’s no reason to dwell on it.”

“I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Because you didn’t love me? You can’t make yourself love someone.”

Lines formed on his forehead. “It’s not as if I didn’t care about you. And your mother had just died....”

“That was my problem, not yours.” But she was lucky she’d survived those first few days after leaving Whiskey Creek, lucky that what she’d done hadn’t damaged Wyatt. Only after she’d decided to keep him had she found the will to fight for a better life, to look after herself for his sake. Without him, she might never have changed.

“Maybe if I’d reacted differently, you wouldn’t have taken off.”

She would’ve had to do something. “You reacted honestly. That’s more important. And you were right. I had no business bothering you in the middle of the night.”

He grimaced. “Except that when your world falls apart, you should be able to wake someone you’ve been...intimate with.”

“No. I understood the rules.”

“The rules?” he repeated.

“How you really felt about me. Moving on had to happen one way or another. How else could our...arrangement have ended?”

“More gently.”

He seemed to feel sincere regret, so she smiled in an effort to ease his conscience. “I’m okay,” she said. “Stronger than ever.”

With a jerk of his head, he indicated all the tools Riley had left behind. “And with prospects.”

“I’ve finally arrived,” she teased.

“So...are you going to date him?”

“I think so.”

“Really.”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

He raised his hands. “Of course not. Riley’s the best Whiskey Creek has to offer.”

She didn’t join in his sarcasm; she didn’t feel it was fair to Riley, who’d also done a lot to help her today. The reception desk was only partly finished, but she could tell it was going to be far nicer than anything she could’ve built. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Tomorrow. He’s bringing Jacob to help him finish up.”

“I’ll have to put his pie in the fridge, then. Or maybe drop it off at his house—if Cheyenne will let me borrow her car.”

“I’d let you take mine, but I don’t really care if he gets a pie.”

“You don’t like Riley? Since when?”

“He’s fine,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if his indifference was real or feigned.

She pulled the stroller closer. “I made you a pie, too. It’s not much but...I wanted to thank you for painting.”

When she tried to hand it to him, he made no move to accept it. He just stared at her as if he was still hoping to tear off the polite mask she was trying so hard to keep in place. “You used to like my apple pie,” she added lamely.

“I liked a lot more about you than your pies, Pres.”

Suddenly, she was no longer grateful they were alone. The same privacy that allowed them to talk without being overheard made other things possible, as well. The spike in her pulse suggested several alternatives—all of them physical—and she knew that would only enslave her again.

“That’s nice of you to say,” she responded.

“Quit being so damned courteous,” he snapped. “I’m not just stroking your ego!”

He was getting irritated, and she understood why. He didn’t see any reason they couldn’t resume the relationship they’d had before. But that was impossible. Even if she didn’t have Wyatt, why would she settle for someone who couldn’t love her?

She’d rather spend the rest of her life alone. “I should explain something.”

He placed both hands on his lean hips—the very picture of a disgruntled male. “What?”

“I know why you befriended me in the first place. I saw it on your face when you came up to me at Sexy Sadie’s. You deserve credit for that.”

“Credit for what?”

“For reaching out to someone who had no one else. My mother had cancer. Cheyenne was wrapped up in her friends. It was...a dark time for me, and I think you could sense that.”

“I didn’t view you as some kind of charity case, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not suggesting you weren’t honest in your friendship, just that you can’t help looking out for the underdog. But rescuing people doesn’t give them the right to grab on to you the way I did.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “I can see how it could be overwhelming, but you didn’t complain. You took my affection in stride and did your best to tolerate all the extra attention. So while you seem to believe you failed me, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel any guilt. No one else even tried to include me.”

“I’ve always hated the way you see yourself,” he said.

“You mean you hate that I can see the truth.” She caught his hand and made him take the pie. “Neither of us has much of an education, Aaron, but we’re not stupid. And I probably know you better than anyone. Who else has been more devoted to you?”

“You don’t seem so devoted anymore.”

If he only knew. She let her gaze linger on his lips. He had the softest lips. “You’ll get over it. By tomorrow.”

When she added that and laughed, his jaw tightened. “There you go again.”

“I’m joking! Take your pie home and enjoy it. And please realize that I’m grateful for the work you did today, even though you didn’t owe it to me to begin with. You’re under no further obligation. You’ve already done everything that could be expected of you.” She stepped away from him. “Go find another bird with a broken wing to patch up.”

“You don’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t need you anymore.” But, God, did she want him.

He didn’t move. “I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”

“Because, where you’re concerned, there’s no middle ground for me. I can’t be friends with you, not without wanting to rip off your clothes.”

“See? Nothing’s really changed.” His eyes slid over her, making her supremely conscious of her black lace underwear. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why she’d worn them—or why she felt warm when she recognized the heavy-lidded look on his face. She’d seen that look before, knew what it meant.

“Was that so hard to admit?” he asked.

“No, it was entirely too easy. That’s the problem. After spending the night together countless times, we’re so conditioned to being with each other in that way, it’s the first thing we think of when we see each other. But it might be a bit harder to explain to Riley, or anyone else who wants to legitimately date me, why I’m still having sex with you.”

“He’s not your boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So I don’t believe what we do should be anyone’s business but our own.”

Once again Presley could feel the pull of that powerful and tenacious ocean of need. But she couldn’t allow herself to be ripped away from the rock of safety “no” provided. “Just walk away while you can do it with a clear conscience, okay? Now’s your chance,” she said, but she knew he wasn’t going to when he set her pie aside, slipped his arms around her and brought her against him.

She didn’t resist but neither did she respond when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

“It’s been a long time,” he whispered.

All the bones in Presley’s body felt as if they’d dissolved on contact. But she refused to lose this battle; she wanted to be tough, defiant, unmoved. “I’m not interested.”

The warmth of his breath fanned her face as his lips moved over hers again. “You’re interested, all right.”

Her body tingled as the memories returned—Aaron naked above her, Aaron suckling her breast, Aaron hooking his arms under her knees as he drove inside her. “How can you tell?” she asked, but she shouldn’t have spoken. The quaver in her voice only confirmed his words.

He buried his nose in her neck and took a deep breath. Then he put his mouth on the tender skin there, but she stopped him before he could leave a mark. “I can taste it on you,” he said. “I can even smell it.”

She swallowed hard. “So? I can tell you want me, too.” The truth was apparent; she could feel his arousal against her abdomen.

“I’m not the one trying to deny it.”

Her mouth watered for a deeper kiss so she could obtain some satisfaction. But he kept his mouth a fraction of an inch away and didn’t move his hands to any of the places that were throbbing in anticipation.

“We had fun,” he said. “There’s no reason it couldn’t be like that again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

“Fine.” A second later, he let go of her and recovered his pie.

“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked.

A devilish grin slanted his lips to one side. “You had your chance. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Presley stayed where she was, gripping what had been built of the receptionist’s desk as his steps receded. Not until he was gone did she remember her conversation with Cheyenne. Her sister was going to ask him to donate sperm so she could have a baby. Presley had planned to prepare him, to give him some advance warning so he could think about how he wanted to respond. It wouldn’t be an easy decision. While she wanted her sister to have a baby, she also wanted Aaron to be sure he was willing to play a role.

She’d gotten too distracted to mention it, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Not right now. Although she’d survived their encounter, her confidence was badly shaken. If he hadn’t stopped touching her, if he’d slid his hand up her shirt instead of letting go, would she have been able to deny him?

Chances were, she would’ve dragged him into the back room and showed off her sexy underwear. She knew how much he liked lace panties—and she knew she’d never looked better in them, which certainly wasn’t helping. She felt she finally had the kind of body he could admire, so vanity was working against her, too. That was the downside to the improvements she’d made. While they boosted her self-esteem, they didn’t do a lot for her resistance.

“You have no willpower,” she muttered. “Not when it comes to Aaron.”

She needed to stay away from him in the future—and pray he left for Reno soon.

* * *

Damn it! What the hell was he doing? He’d received Presley’s forgiveness, knew she didn’t hold anything against him. He had her pie in his passenger seat to prove it. So why had he stirred up those dying embers? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

Because he’d missed her. And he still wanted her. Although he’d slept with several women since her, none of them had brought him the same level of fun, comfort or satisfaction.