BEVERLY BARTON - His Secret Child

Somewhere deep inside Sheila existed the young girl who had once adored Caleb Bishop, a foolishly naive girl who would have done anything for him—and had. Now the remnants of that innocent teenager spiraled up from the depths of Sheila’s heart in sympathy and concern for this man who stood in front of her, a man who was little more than a stranger now.

“Just because your baseball career is over doesn’t mean you’re useless.” Her calm voice had a sharp, judgmental tone. “You’re still rich, handsome and intelligent. There are a lot of people who’d give anything to have that much.”

Knowing full well that Sheila had just put him in his place, Caleb chuckled. Being able to laugh at himself felt damn good. He hadn’t been able to do that in a long time. Usually when someone talked to him as plainly as Sheila had just done, he bit their head off.

“Now I remember that your honesty was one of the things I always liked about you,” he said. “You never played games the way so many girls did. You always said what you thought and you sure as hell gave me more than one tongue-lashing that last senior semester when you tutored me in English.”

“I’m surprised you remember anything about those months. They were so long ago.” A lifetime ago, Sheila thought. Danny’s lifetime.

“Despite the fact that I didn’t recognize you when I first walked in, I do remember you and those months when you pounded some sense into my brain. I know, better than anyone, that without your help I never would have graduated and gone on to play baseball in college. I owed you a lot, Sheila, and I never repaid you in any way.”

“Your grandfather paid me to tutor you. It was a job I did for other kids who needed help. And you took me out to celebrate after graduation. Back then, that meant a lot to a girl like me. You could have had a date with any girl in the whole county.”

Sheila silently chastised herself for reminding him of that night. Why had she? For her sake and Danny’s sake, she should hope he never remembered any of the details. If he did, he might find out the truth she’d kept hidden from him for twelve years.

“God, that was some night, wasn’t it? I was leaving for the summer a week after graduation and I was really full of myself because I’d won a baseball scholarship.”

“Yeah, it was some night,” Sheila said. “But I’m afraid I can’t hang around and reminisce anymore. I’ve got to get home. Danny has practice. . .” She stopped talking midsentence, realizing that she shouldn’t be discussing her son with Caleb Bishop.

“Danny? Is that your son?” Caleb asked. “You named him after his father, huh?”

“Yes, Danny’s my son.” Sheila backed into the kitchen. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Enjoy your supper. And if you need anything, give me a call. I left my number on a pad by the phone.” She nodded toward the small table in the living room.

“I wish you could stay. I . . .” He’d been about to tell her that he was lonely and needed someone to talk to, to listen and understand. Someone even to fuss at him and argue with him. But Sheila had her own life. A child. A home. A business. She’d hardly have any time to waste on him. After all, what was he to her? Nothing more than her friend Tallie’s big brother.

Don’t give in to that sad, wounded, lost look in his eyes, Sheila told herself. Don’t involve yourself in Caleb’s life. If you do, you’ll just get hurt again. And this time, it won’t be only you who will suffer. It’ll be Danny, too.

“I’ve got to go,” she told him, but she lingered, drawn to him now, as she had been long ago.

He’d been a devastatingly handsome young man; some had even called him pretty. But Sheila had always thought Caleb was too masculine to be a pretty boy, despite his perfect features. He was, in some ways, better looking now since he had matured. He’d always been big, but the gangly form of his youth had disappeared and left in its stead a sturdy, muscular body that made a woman wonder what it would be like to be possessed by all that masculine power.

Caleb studied the woman in front of him. “Thanks for everything you did. Getting the old homestead ready for me. Airing out the place and bringing over my supper was nice of you.” He had always liked Sheila, had even thought of her a few times over the years. She’d always had a gentle strength he’d never known in any other woman. He didn’t think he’d ever known any other female, except his sister Tallie, whom he’d genuinely liked. Oh, he’d adored a lot of women, seduced more than his share, had even been head over heels in love a couple of times, but he didn’t think he’d liked any of those women. Not even Kim. She had been as big a phony as he’d been. Her whole world had revolved around herself, just the way his world had revolved around him.

“I have to go, Caleb.” Sheila realized that she needed to break eye contact with him, to end the spell his pleading gaze had cast over her.

“Yeah, I know. Go on. I’m fine. I’ll settle in, eat my supper and go to bed early.”

“Give Tallie a call and let her know you made it home okay.”

“You’d think she was my mother instead of my kid sister, the way she’s hovered over me since the accident.”

“She loves you, that’s why.”

For one brief moment Caleb thought he saw a flicker of some deep emotion on Sheila’s face. Surely after all these years, she didn’t still care about him. Twelve years ago she’d had a crush on him and despite the fact she hadn’t been his type back then, he’d been flattered by her shy adoration.

“I’ll see you around,” Sheila said, her voice steady and calm. “Take care of yourself.”

She made it to the back door before Caleb caught up with her. He grabbed her shoulder. She froze. He turned her slowly to face him. “To most of the people around here, I’m a local hero, and that’s going to make it difficult for me to fit in. I need a friend who isn’t intimidated by the fact that I was the star pitcher for the Atlanta Braves. I need you, Sheila.”

No, her mind screamed. Yes, her heart pleaded. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I can’t I . . .”

He massaged her shoulder, felt her shudder. Caleb wasn’t sure exactly why it was suddenly so important to him to renew his old friendship with Sheila, but it was. Maybe she reminded him of good times, of being very young and—Who was he kidding? He was a man who’d been without a woman for more than a year. He’d spent months in the hospital after the accident and not until recently had he been able to even dress himself. Sheila Hanley Vance might not be a beauty, but there was something about her that made him want to run his hands over her big, sturdy body, made him want to lift her onto the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and slide between her legs.

Even if he hadn’t recognized her when he’d first seen her tonight, his body had remembered hers. She’d been a virgin that night twelve years ago, but she’d been eager and wild and as willing as any woman he’d ever taken.

There had been too many women in his life, especially when he’d been younger. He couldn’t even remember some of their names. But Sheila had been different. Different because he had genuinely liked her.

“Is there some man in your life who would object to our being friends?” he asked.

“I date occasionally,” she told him. “But I’m not involved with anyone right now.”

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t have room for you in my life, Caleb Bishop.” Pulling out of his grasp, she turned her back to him and opened the door. “I don’t have time to be the kind of friend you need. But there are dozens of women in Crooked Oak who’d be glad to be your friend.”