BEVERLY BARTON - His Secret Child

“Yeah, she is beautiful,” Caleb said, then turned his attention to Sheila. “So. . .do you think I should ask her out when she gets back from England?”

“That’s entirely up to you,” Sheila said.

“What kind of woman is she?”

“A very nice lady.”

“Too nice for me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Do you think we’d make a good pair?” he asked.

“In some ways,” Sheila said. “Just like you, Donna isn’t interested in a commitment. She dates, but she never gets serious about anyone.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Caleb chuckled. “So Donna likes to play around and—”

“She’s a widow who’s still in love with her husband. She dates, but she doesn’t play around, so if you want a sex partner—and I’m sure you do—then Donna’s probably the wrong choice.”

“What about you, Sheila? Are you a woman who’s still in love with her husband?”

I was never in love with Daniel Vance. But I can hardly tell you that fact, any more than I can tell you that Danny is your son or that you’re the man I fell in love with when I was just a foolish teenage girl.

“A part of me will always love Daniel.” And I will always be grateful to him for marrying me and giving your son a father. “But, no, I’m not in love with him.”

“Mmm. So, if Mike can find me a car, would you be interested in helping me fix it up?”

“Me? I don’t think so. But I’m sure, if the price is right, Mike will help you.”

“Why not you?”

Caleb studied Sheila Vance closely. A slight pink flush stained her cheeks. He grinned. His blatant survey obviously embarrassed her.

She was as different from Donna Fields as an oak tree from a red maple. Donna was breathtaking, colorful and delicately feminine. Sheila was strength and simplicity and looked like the type of woman who could plow a field, fight off a band of renegade natives and give birth—all in the same day.

“Let’s just say that I’m not interested, okay?” She had no intention of being one of Caleb Bishop’s pastimes while he was visiting Crooked Oak. She wasn’t going to volunteer to amuse him for the next couple of weeks, until Donna got back from England or until some other pretty girl caught his eye.

“You’re a hard-hearted woman, Sheila Vance.”

“I’m a—”

“Hey, Mom. Practice was great. Pat said I’m going to be the Bulldogs’s star pitcher this year.” Danny Vance raced into the office, a wide, warm smile, identical to his father’s, spread across his face.

Sheila’s heart missed a beat. Damn, she’d lost track of time. Why hadn’t she remembered that Pat Lawley was going to drop Danny by the garage after Little League practice today?

“Did he? That’s wonderful, Danny.” Sheila forced a smile to her lips. Well, the inevitable had happened. Caleb and Danny were in the same room together. And strangely enough, the world hadn’t come to an end. Yet.

“So, this must be your son,” Caleb said.

“Yes, this is Danny.” Sheila grasped her child’s shoulders and turned him around to meet the one man on earth she’d assumed he would never meet. “Danny, this is Caleb Bishop.”

“Wow wee, Caleb Bishop!” Danny jerked out of his mother’s grasp and rushed over to Caleb. “Man, this is great. Just wait till I tell the guys that I met Caleb Bishop. Right here in my mom and uncle Mike’s garage. And Pat. He’s a big fan of yours, too. Pat Lawley’s our coach. We’re the Bulldogs. You ought to come to a game. You’d—”

“Danny, slow down,” Sheila said. “You’re talking Mr. Bishop to death.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Danny bowed his head sheepishly. Smiling closemouth, he cut his glance in a sideways gesture she’d seen Caleb make time and again when he was being repentant. “I’d like your autograph, Mr. Bishop. I’ve got a brand-new ball. Do you think you could sign it for me?”

“Call me Caleb. And I’d be glad to drop by your house any time and sign that new ball.”

“How about tonight?” Danny lifted his head and Sashed Caleb a brilliant smile. “You could come to dinner. Tonight’s pot roast Mom put it in the Crock-Pot early this morning. She’s a great cook and—”

“Danny!” Sheila cautioned him again. “Mr. Bishop. . . Caleb may already have plans for dinner.”

The boy gazed pleadingly at the man and Sheila’s heart ached for her son. A boy who missed the only father he’d ever known. A boy who had found a role model in a star athlete.

“Sorry,” Danny said.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t have any plans.” Caleb clasped the boy’s shoulder and smiled down at him. “And I’d love to eat some of your mama’s pot roast tonight.” He glanced over Danny’s head and made eye contact with Sheila.

“We eat a little later, now that Little League season has begun,” she said. “Come by around six-thirty.”

“Thanks,” Caleb said. “I’ll go talk to Mike about finding me a car.” He focused on Danny momentarily. “See you tonight, slugger.”

The moment Caleb left the office, Danny jumped up and down, screeching the way only an eleven-year-old boy could.

“Caleb Bishop is coming to my house for dinner tonight! The Caleb Bishop. Holy cow, Mom, I’m going to be the envy of every guy at school tomorrow.”

Yes, Caleb Bishop was coming to their house for dinner tonight. And she would have to watch them together—Caleb and Danny, father and son—and pretend that everything was normal. Right or wrong, no matter what, her first obligation was to her son. She had to protect him at all costs. Caleb didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. And any feelings she still had for the man were unimportant.

She could not allow Caleb to become a part of their lives and then walk away from them, as she was sure he would do. She might be willing to risk her heart again for the pleasure of being with Caleb one more time. But she would never put Danny’s security and happiness at risk. Not even for Caleb.

Three

“You really didn’t have to agree to Danny’s request to invite Tanner and Devin over here to meet you tonight,” Sheila said, placing the iced tea glasses in the top compartment of the dishwasher.

“I know I didn’t.” Caleb handed her the stack of dirty dishes he had removed from the kitchen table. “But why shouldn’t I? I’ve got plenty of time on my hands and I think it means a lot to Danny.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She arranged the plates neatly in a row in the bottom compartment. “My son is one of your biggest fans, and that’s saying quite a lot, considering you’re the idol of every male in Crooked Oak—boy, teenager and man.”

“Did I thank you for the delicious dinner?” he asked.

Caleb moved in behind Sheila as she leaned over the sink and filled the Crock-Pot with warm, soapy water. She felt him, although he didn’t actually touch her. The heat of his body. The power of his masculinity. The strength of his presence. When she turned to face him, he was close. Too close. She stepped back in an effort to escape his nearness. Her hips pressed into the counter edge.

“Yes, you thanked me,” she said. “Twice.”

“Just shows how much I enjoyed having dinner with you. . . and your son.”

“I imagine it’s a new experience for you, having dinner with a woman and her child.” Sheila took a deep breath and sidestepped Caleb, moving to his left.

He grabbed her arm, his hold tight but gentle. “You didn’t want me here tonight, Sheila. Why?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re Tallie’s brother and Danny’s idol. Why wouldn’t you be welcome in my home?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” Reaching out with his fingertips, he smoothed back an errant strand of hair that had fallen over her right eye.