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“Nina…” He touched her lightly on the shoulder and she shivered. “It doesn’t have to be…a conventional marriage. We don’t have to…”
She swallowed and the movement of her throat mesmerized him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “We can share a house, share a life, but not…”
What would the delicate skin of her throat feel like against his palm? If he grazed his lips along the curve from jaw to collarbone, would her pulse quicken against his mouth? Tangled in his imagination, he lost the thread of their conversation.
“Jameson…” she said, the words barely a whisper.
It wasn’t invitation in her voice, but he couldn’t resist bending his head down to hers, to taste his name on her lips. It wouldn’t do a damn thing to advance the cause of marrying him, but in that moment he couldn’t think of a thing except kissing her.
She couldn’t let him kiss her again. As bad a mistake as it had been earlier, now the lunacy of his marriage proposal hung over her. The moment he touched her nothing else mattered but his heat. She had to protect her son, not give in to the longings Jameson set off with just a brush of his fingertips against her skin.
His lips hovered over hers, nearly too close to resist. She mustered her resolve and stepped aside, then skirted him so she could gain some space. She backed into the café’s dining area, striking her ankle on a chair leg. She used the pain to bring her back to her senses.
“I want you to leave.” The words weren’t quite steady, but clear enough. “Please go.”
He took a step toward her, but now she had the space to retreat. “Jameson, please.”
“I’m not leaving until we settle this.”
“We have. I won’t marry you.”
“Nate needs a father and I’m it. I won’t ask you for anything in our marriage except to be his mother. I’ll stay out of your bedroom. But you will marry me.”
“I won’t! You can’t force me—”
He closed the distance between them so rapidly, she didn’t have a chance to so much as breathe, let alone escape. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, gentle but implacable.
“No, I can’t force you.” The words were laden with quiet menace. “But I will do everything in my power to assert my parental rights.”
“You’re an ex-con—no judge in his right mind would grant you visitation, let alone custody.”
“My grandmother, on the other hand, is a fine, up-standing citizen, with more money than she could ever spend in a lifetime. She’d be thrilled to know she has a great-grandson. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to act as his guardian.”
Horror filled her. “You wouldn’t take him away from me.”
Something flickered in his face and he glanced away from her. Then his gaze grew as hard and cold as polished lapis. “Marry me, Nina.”
A hole opened inside her, threatening to envelop her. She tried to think, but her thoughts kept chasing each other, an endless loop of fear. She’d barely known Jameson five years ago—now he was a complete stranger. But was he capable of the ultimate cruelty? Would he take Nate away from her?
He wouldn’t because she wouldn’t let him. She would pack up Nate and abandon her home, her business, her family, before she would give up her son.
She needed time, enough space to think things through. “Please, give me a night. Come back tomorrow and we’ll—”
“When tomorrow?”
She tugged her captive hand and relief washed over her when he released her. She could still feel the imprint of his skin against hers. “Nate goes to preschool at nine. Give me until ten to set up for lunch. Then we’ll talk.”
He nodded, but his gaze roved over her face as if searching for duplicity. She blanked her expression, quieted her thoughts, refused to flinch as his visual exploration passed over her like a caress.
“Tomorrow,” she said, injecting as much conviction as she could into the word. “I promise.”
“I just want to do what’s right, Nina.”
The fervency in his simple vow clutched at her heart. She hardened herself against the feeling. “Then why won’t you just go?” Away from them. Out of their lives.
Jameson’s throat worked. “Because he needs me.”
“He doesn’t even know you.”
“But he still needs me.”
He pulled away then, giving her a wide berth as he headed for the door. She waited until she was certain he was gone, then hurried over to lock the front dead bolt, giving the handle a tug to be certain the bolt was thrown. She had to resist the irrational urge to further bar the door by pulling a table in front of it.
Keys in hand, she wound her way back through the dining area, her steps moving faster as she moved through the kitchen. Taking the back stairs two at a time, she quickly ran through a mental list of necessities she would have to take with her.
They had to escape. It was the only way to keep Nate safe—from a father he didn’t know, from the risk of being stolen from his home, ripped from his mother’s arms. Their only option was to flee.
Stepping quietly into Nate’s room, she slid the closet door open and retrieved the small suitcase her son used on his overnights with Grandma and Grandpa. She could load it with enough changes of clothing for two or three days, then buy whatever else they needed on the road. His toy chest wouldn’t possibly fit in the trunk of her small car so she’d have to pick a few of his favorites to bring. It would be hard to explain why he’d have to leave behind so many beloved treasures, but she had no choice.
She set the suitcase on the floor beside Nate’s dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Best to take extra underwear. Nate hadn’t had an accident in months, but with the stress of leaving home, he might regress. She grabbed up a handful and was about to drop it in the suitcase when she heard a light rap on the apartment door.
There was no doubt who’d just knocked. There was no denying him entry. He’d probably pound the door even harder, and Nate would wake.
A handful of Nate’s Spider-Man underwear gathered close to her chest, Nina went to open the door. Jameson stood on her small landing, head down, shoulders slumped. His head swung up and his gaze took in the small bundle in her arms.
“Please don’t leave, Nina.”
“I wasn’t—” She cut off the transparent lie. “I only want to keep him safe.”
“So do I. I swear it to you.”
“But if you take him, pull him away from the only home he’s known…”
Jameson stared down at her, his silence just as damning as the spoken truth. What could she have been thinking? Tearing Nate from everything familiar to him, the grandparents he loved deeply…whose safety would she preserve by running away?
Tears burned her eyes, tightened her throat. “I don’t want to marry you.”
“I know I’m not nearly the man you deserve.” He held his hands out, palms up as if seeking his future…or coming to terms with his past. “Until now, I’ve made nothing of myself. Yet somehow I created something good, something right. I can’t just walk away from that.”
“But why marry me? Can’t you be part of his life without that?”
“I want him to see us together. He needs us both.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Give me two years, Nina. Just two. Enough for Nate and me to get to know each other, to build a bond. Then, as long as I’m still in his life…we wouldn’t have to stay married.”
She wanted to say no. Uniting herself with Jameson terrified her. Her careful control over her life would be shifted if she let another person in.
She had to say no.
He reached for her as if to stop the word he must have sensed. “Please, Nina. Marry me.”
Dragging in a breath, she groped for strength. “Yes. I will.”
Late afternoon sunshine filtering through the pines striped Main Street with gold and set off an inexplicable ache in Nina’s chest. She’d forced herself to sit on the bench in front of the café, unwilling to give in to the nervous energy skittering up and down her body. Jameson leaned against the mailbox out in front of Janine’s Style & Cut, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. He stood perfectly still and she might have believed his false air of calm if she didn’t see the tight set of his jaw, the convulsive working of his throat.
“Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Jameson asked, his tone rough and impatient.
“Ten more minutes,” she promised. “The preschool bus drops him off at three-thirty.”
He lapsed back into silence, his gaze fixed on the Hart Valley Inn across the street. The innkeeper, Beth Henley, stepped out with her broom to sweep the walk, and she smiled and waved at Nina. She directed her friendly smile toward Jameson and he gave her a brusque nod in response. Nina could see the questions in Beth’s face when the innkeeper turned back to her, but Nina wouldn’t be giving anyone any answers until she’d broken the news to the three most important people in her life.
Once she’d acquiesced to Jameson’s proposal last night, they sat in her small living room and spoke quietly about what would happen next. They planned to tell Nate first, as soon as he returned from preschool. Nina had already arranged to have dinner at her parents’ tonight where she would make her announcement to the rest of her small family.
Jameson shifted, pushing away from the mailbox to pace a few steps along the curb before returning to his post. “You didn’t say anything to him this morning?”
“I already told you—”
“I know, I know. We agreed we’d wait until we could tell him together. Sorry. I’m just…”
He paced again from the mailbox to the newspaper racks just beyond the café, then retraced his steps. Nina was grateful Jameson had stayed away for most of the day—he’d had business to attend to in Sacramento. It had given her the space to come to terms with the decision she’d made. If she’d had to cope with his explosive edginess along with her own swings from hysteria to terror to overwhelming self-doubt, she might have run screaming down Main Street.
His brief absence had given her enough time to call Andrea Jarret and ask if she could fill in at the café this afternoon and evening. Nina had hated to impose since Andrea was teaching full-time now at Hart Valley Elementary. But Andrea was delighted to help. In fact, Andrea’s stepdaughter Jessie had been bugging Andrea about when they could work at the café again. The ten-year-old had had so much fun a couple months ago relieving Nina when her father had his heart attack, she’d been begging to do it again.
Yanking his hands from his pockets, Jameson turned to face her. “Maybe you were right. You should tell him, without me there. It would be easier—” The torrent of words cut off as he caught sight of the small yellow school bus approaching up Main Street.
Nina rose from the bench and stepped to the curb as the bus pulled up. Used to racing inside the café to look for her, Nate was surprised to see her waiting. He walked slowly toward her, his dark brown gaze shifting to Jameson briefly before he focused again on her.
“Hi, Mommy.” He gave her a perfunctory hug, then hung back behind her, his gaze straying again to Jameson. “Hi.”
Nina knelt down to eye-level with Nate. “Honey, we’re going for a little drive. We have something important to talk about.”
He tucked in even closer to her. “Okay.”
Jameson reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Would you like to sit in the front?”
Nate shook his head solemnly. “Mommy says I’m not s’posed to.”
With her son clinging to her hand, they crossed the street to the public lot. Jameson unlocked the Camry and waited until Nina had Nate seat-belted in his booster seat before he climbed inside and started the engine. They pulled out onto Main Street.
Jameson glanced over at her as they reached the end of town. Behind his edginess, hope warred with anxiety. He would never say the words out loud, but she saw his need for reassurance plainly.
Despite her own heart screaming out its reluctance to embark on the course they’d set, Nina couldn’t ignore his unspoken plea. She reached across the car and lay her fingers against his arm, giving him a squeeze. In spite of herself, she enjoyed the warmth of his skin just below his T-shirt sleeve. Gratitude flashed across his face and his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. Nina pulled her hand back, his heat still curled in her palm, and wondered at the small step she’d just taken toward her future.
Jameson sat on the rickety top step leading up to his father’s ramshackle cabin with Nina beside him. Nate stood with his back to them beside a fallen log a dozen yards down the weed-choked gravel drive. He had a stick in his hand and every now and then he poked at the rotting tree.
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