BEVERLY BARTON - His Woman, His Child

She nodded. “I know.”

He held her with gentle firmness and willed his body not to respond to the small, slender woman in his embrace. “We both loved Lowell and we’re both going to miss him. I intend to do all I can to set things right for him. And that includes making sure his wife doesn’t want for anything.”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about your being...about Lowell not being... People wouldn’t understand.”

“I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that I’m not going to tell anybody anything.”

He kissed the side of her forehead, then rubbed his cheek against hers. Her hair smelled like sunshine and flowers. His body tightened. Loosening his hold around her, he stepped back. The last thing Susan needed was to feel his arousal pressing against her. He grasped her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him.

“I want to help you, to make things easier for you, not more difficult. There’s no need for anyone to know about our personal business.”

She breathed deeply. The trembling in her body subsided and she smiled at Hank. “We have to remember that your stay in Crooked Oak is only temporary. You have a job and a life somewhere else and I have a life here. Our only connection is my child.” She reached up and laid her hands on his chest, against the smooth, cool fabric of his overcoat. “I know that with Lowell dead, you feel a responsibility for my baby, but I realize that I shouldn’t expect you to be a father to this child. Lowell told me that you didn’t want children of your own and you didn’t intend to ever marry.”

“I don’t intend to marry and I don’t want children.” Hank ran his hands up and down her arms, caressing her tenderly. “But you’re right. I do feel a great deal of responsibility for your baby.” He released her abruptly. “I never considered this possibility when Lowell asked me to donate my sperm so you and he could have a child.”

“I’m sorry, Hank.” She touched his arm.

Don’t touch me, he wanted to shout. And don’t look at me with those big blue eyes that ask for so much. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. Fate has played a pretty nasty trick on us and we’re going to have to deal with it.”

“I’d like to be able to tell you that I don’t need you, but that would be a lie. I do need you. I need you for the next few months. If you could...if you would—”

“You name it and you’ve got it. I’ll do whatever you need for me to do.”

“Be my friend. Be an uncle—a godfather—to my baby.”

“Sure. All right. Anything else?”

“Find Lowell’s murderer and bring him to justice.”

“That’s my number one priority as sheriff.”

“Be careful, Hank.” She squeezed his arm. “I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you, too.”

Her words hit him like a sledgehammer blow to his midsection. He’d have to be a blind fool not to realize that Susan cared about him. But was that caring anything more than concern for Lowell’s best friend? Concern for the biological father of her baby?

She sat in the quiet stillness of the den as twilight approached and evening shadows fell across the room. Lucy and Ethel perched on the back of the sofa. Curled on the rug in front of the fireplace, Ricky snored softly. And Fred cuddled close to Susan’s side.

She needed to put her life back on track, to find a way to go on without Lowell. For her child’s sake and for the sake of her own sanity. She needed to get back to work. With only Scooter Bellamy, her assistant, as a full-time employee, the animal shelter was sorely understaffed. Being with the animals, caring for them and trying to find homes for them could fill the hours as nothing else could. The less she thought about herself and her situation, the better off she’d be.

Hank Bishop was going to be a part of her life for the next year. She might as well accept that fact and make the best of it. Whether she liked it or not, she did need Hank. She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to go through eight more months of pregnancy alone, so who better to stand by her than the father of her child.

She supposed she should feel guilty for thinking of the child as Hank’s instead of Lowell’s. But the truth be known, she had always thought of the baby as Hank’s. God forgive her.

And God forgive her for not having the courage to face her feelings for Hank before she’d married Lowell. If she’d been a different kind of woman, she would have pursued Hank, done everything in her power to ensnare him, to make him fall in love with her. But the passionate feelings that Hank had always aroused in her frightened her far more than the prospect of living her life alone. Lowell had been a compromise—love, marriage and a family with a safe man, a man whose gentle love protected her from Hank Bishop.

But Lowell was gone now and nothing stood between her and her feelings for Hank. Nothing except her own fear.

Overcome that fear, she told herself. Take an uncertain, perhaps dangerous step. You’re still madly in love with Hank Bishop—and the thought of giving in to those wild, uncontrollable feelings scares you to death. Even if you get hurt, even if he leaves you, wouldn’t it be better to have known what it was like to belong to Hank, if only for a short period of time, than to die not knowing?

She reached over and picked up the telephone. Fred grunted, readjusted his fat little body and buried his nose against Susan’s leg. After taking a deep breath, she dialed the number.

“Hello?” Sheila Bishop said.

“Sheila, this is Susan. Is Hank there?”

“Yes, he is. We just finished dinner a few minutes ago. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes, please.”

“Is everything all right?” Sheila asked. “You sound kind of funny.”

“Everything’s fine. I just need to talk to Hank.”

“Okay.”

Susan waited, her heart thundering, her palms damp with perspiration, her mouth dry. What if she was making a mistake? What if she lived to regret taking such a bold step?

Stop second guessing yourself. For once in your meek little life, go for the gold.

After all, what did she have to lose in the long run? Oh, nothing but her self-respect and her heart.

“Hello?” Hank said.

“Hank, it’s Susan. I found you a place to live.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the apartment over my garage.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

“I thought someone was living there already.”

“No. It’s empty. The young woman who lived there got married last month and moved out. I just haven’t had a chance to do anything about renting it again.”

“Are you sure about this?” He chuckled softly. “You don’t think the neighbors would talk, do you?”

She laughed. “The entire population of Crooked Oak is praising you for coming home to tie up the loose ends of Lowell’s life. I don’t think anyone will be surprised if you move close by so you can look after your best friend’s pregnant widow. That is what you said you wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Susan, I want to look after you...for Lowell.”

“Then you’ll take the apartment?”

“Sure. Why not? It will make things convenient. I’d be right there, just next door, whenever you need me. How soon do you want me to move in?”

“How about tomorrow? The place is furnished, so just bring your suitcase and whatever else you brought from your Virginia apartment.”

“We can discuss rent and—”

“The rent’s free,” she said.

“I can’t accept the place rent-free.”

“Then you can earn it by doing husbandly things around the place for me.” She realized too late just what she’d said. A warm flush spread up her neck and heated her face.