Susan Crosby - Secrets of Paternity

Silence crash landed louder than ever before in the big house James loved. He hadn’t realized just how empty it was, not truly. It made him hunger to fill it up now. Right now.

He grabbed a beer and headed into his office. He would look up newspaper articles about Paul’s death first. But when he pulled up a chair to the computer, he just sat there, thinking about Paul, about how they met, and what had happened between them to make James indebted to him.

He needed to tell someone. Not his mother, not yet. Not until the relationship settled. Quinn was in Los Angeles helping the other ARC owners on a big case. That left Cassie. He called her home number and got her answering machine. He hung up, debating whether to call her cell, which would be on, but he didn’t want to interrupt her night with her fiancé. They weren’t at home, so they must be out having fun somewhere.

The doorbell rang. As before, he ignored it. It rang again. Fifteen seconds later, again. Irritated he headed to the front door. When he was a kid, an unlit porch light meant “do not disturb.” He didn’t have candy left to give out.

He yanked open the door, intending to give an etiquette lesson to the trick-or-treater. No costumed kid stood there, however, but the Harley wrecker, not decked out in a costume but in blue jeans and a red sweater.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, looking ready to flee, probably because he was scowling.

“No.” He was surprised by the jolt of reaction that whipped through him. “No, please. Come in.”

“Um. No, thank you. I’m sorry for dropping by so late, but I saw your light on. I just wanted to know about the estimate on the repairs. If I owe you more money.”

Maybe it was because he was already high on adrenaline from meeting Kevin that his heart started beating louder. That was part of it, he supposed, but more likely it was because he found her appealing. He liked that she was a woman of her word, that she’d shown up when she said she would, proving that such people did exist. He also liked the wary look in her eyes, similar, in fact, to Kevin’s expression, even the same shade of blue—

“Mr. Paladin?” she said, taking a step back, her expression even warier.

“Would you like to have dinner?” he asked. He needed to talk to someone about what had just happened. He had a feeling she would sympathize or cheer or give him good advice on how to handle the situation. Maybe she even had teenagers herself.

“With you?” she asked.

He smiled at the shock in her voice. “I can’t really invite you to go out with anyone else, can I?”

“No, thank you,” she said firmly. “Do I owe you more money?”

He was disappointed but not surprised at her turndown. “My mechanic hasn’t given me an answer. If you’ll leave your name and number this time, I’ll give you a call when I know.”

“I’ll come back.” She went down the stairs.

James watched her until she was out of sight, admiring the sway of her rear in her formfitting jeans. Although slender, she wasn’t lacking curves in all the right places.

He wondered why he found her so intriguing, especially since she didn’t flirt, and talked to him only as a person intent on doing business. In fact she’d looked at him at one point as if he’d had the plague. Physically she tempted him, but that wasn’t all there was to it.

Deciding to ignore his disappointment, he fastened on his leather chaps, changed his shoes to boots, grabbed his jacket and helmet and headed out of the house. He needed company and he wanted a drink. He would find both—and do a little work at the same time.

Her nerves shot, Caryn sat in her car to unwind. About the time she would’ve driven away, she saw James come down the stairs, get on the motorcycle parked out front—his loaner, she guessed—and take off.

She followed him. She wasn’t even sure why, except that she was leaving at the same time and—

No. That wasn’t the truth. The truth was that she was fascinated by him. He’d obviously done well for himself, if his house was any indicator. He looked really good dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, too. Like a normal person—except for the scruffy beard. Not like a biker, a risk taker, an adventurer. Like Paul.

Caryn wished she could show James a picture of Kevin, to talk about her wonderful son, to thank the man for his generosity in making Kevin’s life possible. To ask why he’d done it. But she couldn’t. Kevin had to make the overture, and he didn’t seem inclined to do so yet.

She’d been tempted—too tempted—to go to dinner with James. She was already withholding information from him—for good reason—but anything more could be interpreted as lies. If Kevin ever contacted him, and she and James met officially, it could be disastrous with lies between them. So far everything she’d done was forgivable, under the circumstances.

She let a car get between hers and his motorcycle, hoping he hadn’t spotted her. She wanted to know where he was headed after she’d turned him down.

The adventure of following him revved her up. She smiled at the excitement clamoring inside her. It was the last thing she needed, really, this adrenaline rush, this risky scenario. She’d just gotten her life together after Paul’s death. She didn’t need this kind of complication.

If only James didn’t push so many of her hot buttons—like the fantasy of finally meeting him, and the deep-down wish for Kevin to have a father again, a male influence, an anchor.

And then there was that other hot button—a year without intimacy. Her body had come back to life with a vengeance, just by being near him.

She realized he was driving, not in circles exactly, but as if trying to lose her. After a few more turns and cutbacks he pulled up in front of a loud and seedy bar where the street was full of parked motorcycles, some mean-looking ones.

She realized she was lost. Didn’t have a clue where she was or how to get home from there. Worst of all, he’d spotted her. It was ridiculous of her to even try driving past him when he stared right into her car.

She slowed to a stop. He came up alongside her driver’s window, pulled off his helmet.

“Change your mind?” he asked.

“About what?”

“Having dinner with me.”

“No.”

“Why were you following me?”

“I don’t know.”

His brows lifted.

“Okay. Frankly, I was curious. Beyond that, I don’t have a clue. Honestly. I saw you pull out, and I just…followed. And now I’m lost because you were trying to lose me, and I was focused on staying with you instead of on where I was.”

“If I’d wanted to lose you, I would have,” he said blandly.

Of course. She should’ve known that. “You were playing a game with me?”

“I was seeing if you were following me. You were.” He leaned an arm against the top of her car. “The invitation holds, Mysterious.”

She glanced at the bar as another bike pulled up. A beefy man helped a woman climb off it. Both of them had tattoos down their arms and around their necks.

“Not here,” he said with a quick, contagious grin.

“I’ll bet that smile works, most of the time,” she said, relaxing. He hadn’t done anything to intimidate her, even if she’d felt intimidated at times. But that was her problem, not his.

“You intrigue me,” he said.

She did? She was so straightforward, usually, and so…unintriguing. Was it because she was keeping herself mysterious, and therefore, hard to get? Instead of telling him he was ridiculous, that she was the least intriguing person on earth, she smiled. “Then I should keep doing what I’m doing,” she said leisurely.

“Ah. It’s the chase that excites you.”