Tara Quinn - Second Time's the Charm

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Jon Swartz is an adult recipient – the second one – of a scholarship awarded by an anonymous donor.A single father, he comes to Shelter Valley, Arizona, to begin his life anew. He’s a man with a secret past, a past he has to hide to protect both himself and his two-year-old son, Abe.Lillie Henderson, a child life specialist, has her own history of loss and betrayal. She and Jon are brought together by Abe and his needs – and by an attraction they can’t deny.They have to decide not to let the emotions… and mistakes… of the past sabotage their hopes for the future. Abe’s happiness depends on it. And so does their own!

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Someone outside Shelter Valley?

Had Lillie been hired by someone other than Bonnie Nielson? Hired in secret by an older woman she wouldn’t ever mention?

An older woman with enough money to stay at Jon’s back until she got what she wanted?

The thought could be considered paranoid. He might even be able to convince himself of that if he hadn’t learned the hard way, more than once, about the duplicity of women.

At least, the women in his life.

Even then, he wasn’t afraid of the power of the opposite sex. What scared the shit out of him was his own culpability.

He’d made mistakes. Big ones. He wasn’t kidding himself. His past could be used against him—but only if his present supported the theory that he was still the loser he’d once been.

Had Lillie been hired to watch him? And his handling of his son? Could Abraham’s crying bouts—and Jon’s ineffectiveness in controlling them—be used against him?

One thing was for sure, university scholarship or not, he’d leave Shelter Valley immediately if anyone thought they were going to take his son away from him. Clara Abrams could follow him forever and he’d just keep moving one step ahead of her. She was not going to get Abraham.

Abraham. Named for the mother who didn’t want him, Kate Abrams. Jon’s first mistake as a parent.

His second had been in offering to let Abe’s maternal grandparents meet their grandson.

Abraham might not have everything life had to offer—he might not have designer clothes, or a mother who wanted him—but he did have a biological parent who would go to the grave for him.

Kids needed that.

And Jon was going to see that Abraham got it.

He’d learned a thing or three during his years of growing up in a system that didn’t always listen to the children in its care. He’d learned that the best way to find out what was being planned for you was to pretend to cooperate.

He had to meet Lillie Henderson. He had to appear to agree with her suggestions, whatever they might be—to accept her at face value. He had to pretend he had no suspicions regarding her sudden advent into his life.

And all the while, he’d be watching his back. His and Abraham’s. And be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

He’d pack the bag again. The one Kate had helped him pack when she’d come to him over a year ago to tell him that her parents—mainly her mother—were planning to take Abraham away from him. She’d only found out herself in enough time to give him a few hours to skip town.

He’d played the disappearing act before. He knew the score.

He’d had to leave another town before Kate had managed to blackmail her mother into leaving him alone.

But Clara was crafty—her daughter had come by the talent naturally—he’d give her that. She could be on the warpath again.

After all, as Kate had told him on more than one occasion during the months they’d lived together, Abramses didn’t give up.

He’d pack the bag. Keep it ready in the closet. He’d put aside enough money to get them by on cash for a while if necessary. With the toddler, he’d need diapers and nonperishable food, too. And a warm blanket.

His mind spun, plans forming with a familiar clarity.

Running wasn’t new to Jon.

He’d just been fool enough to hope it was over.

* * *

WITH ONLY A minute to spare to get from the back of the public parking area to the Montford University Student Union, Lillie ran the entire way, thanking her joy of jogging and the serviceable rubber-soled shoes she wore to work for allowing her to sprint half a mile without passing out. She’d texted Jon Swartz, letting him know that she was on her way. She didn’t expect him to leave. She just hated to make people wait.

Spotting him leaning against the trunk of a paloverde tree, she slowed to a walk and took a second to smooth the blouse and jeans she’d put on when she’d changed out of her stained scrubs twenty minutes before. Her hair, in a ponytail, thankfully was still presentable.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, her breath even as she approached.

“No problem. I have an hour.”

Less than that, actually, if he wanted to get to class before it started. At least according to what he’d told her.

Not that it was her business.

Nor were those big brown eyes or the ease with which he held his body. The man was...all man.

And she wasn’t one who generally noticed. Or cared. Except in the most superficial sense.

She would walk away from this meeting and have nothing more to do with him, except as it pertained to his being Abraham’s father. The little guy had been on her mind all week. She couldn’t shake him. Which meant that she had a job to do.

“We can walk toward your class if you’d like,” she said, and without a word, he fell into place beside her. Not too close. But closer than he might have if they hadn’t been on a busy campus sidewalk thronging with students heading to and from classes.

“Bonnie tells me this is your first year at Montford,” she started. She had to get a feel for him if she was going to help him. Her job extended to family support as well as client support. Children needed healthy families.

“That’s right.”

He didn’t sound defensive so she continued. “What are you studying?”

“Premed. I’d like to be a doctor.”

“So you’d transfer after you get your undergraduate degree?”

He shrugged, his satchel riding against his denim-clad hip with ease. “I’ve looked at University of Arizona’s medical school in Tucson, but that’s a long way off. My first consideration is Abraham. He’ll be almost six by the time I graduate. I’m not going to uproot him if he’s settled in. I can always go to medical school when he graduates from high school.”

“So why major in premed?”

He turned, and she had no explanation for what his brown-eyed gaze did to her. “How much do you know about my situation?”

“Not much.” Lillie almost missed a step. Something else she didn’t usually do. “I just know that you’re raising Abraham by yourself. And that your son obviously means a lot to you.”

Jutting his chin, he nodded, his gaze turned in front of them again. His hands in his pockets, he continued to head across campus with the ease of a man who knew where he was going.

“I know that you work at the cactus jelly plant,” she added, wanting to be completely up front with him. The files of the children enrolled at Little Spirits contained the names of their parents’ employers. “And I know that you live in an apartment not far from my house,” she added. The complex was less than a mile from the home she’d purchased the previous year.

“That’s more than I know about you.”

“You’re right, it is. And that can change,” she told him. Her current life was an open book. “I admire what you’re trying to do,” she told him.

Was that why she couldn’t get the two Swartz men off her mind? Why thoughts of little Abe—and his dad—continued to pop up throughout her day?

She hardly knew them.

And here she was pushing services that he clearly didn’t want. Like she needed the work. Which she didn’t.

Another direct glance from him, and she reminded herself to put herself in his shoes, to seek to understand, to listen and find out what he needed so she would know if there was anything she could do. She was not only well trained, she was experienced.

And she knew she could help make his job easier. If he’d let her.

“What exactly is it that you think I’m trying to do?” he asked.

Students jostled against them on both sides, snippets of their conversations filling the air around them. The sun was uncharacteristically absent overhead. Lillie was aware of her surroundings—and not really. The man beside her was an enigma.

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