“I need to talk to you.”

Dylan’s words carried a foreboding Shaye only was beginning to understand. Did he want to take Timmy away from her?

Stalling, she asked, “Now?”

“Now.”

Swallowing hard, she turned away from him and on wobbly legs went down the stairs.

In the living room, Dylan sat on the couch. She perched on the armchair next to it. To her surprise, even that still seemed too close.

“Have you started adoption proceedings yet?”

Her dreams for Timmy were huge, her mind filled with scenes of the two of them facing the world together until Timmy could do it on his own.

She didn’t like where this was headed. “I want to. And I know that’s what Julia would have wanted, too.”

“It is, Shaye?” he returned quickly. “Or deep down in her heart did she want to leave Timmy to me?

“Did she want me to be his father?”

Custody for Two
Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ROSE SMITH

read Zane Grey when she was in grade school and loved his books. She also had a crush on Roy Rogers and especially his palomino, Trigger! Around horses as a child, she found them fascinating and intuitive. This series of books set in Wyoming sprang from childhood wishes and adult dreams. When an acquaintance adopted two of the wild mustangs from the western rangelands and invited Karen to visit them, plotlines weren’t far behind. For more background on the books in the series, stop by Karen’s Web site at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at P.O. Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331.

To Liz Conway—

Thanks for being my lifelong friend.

With thanks to Char Rice who welcomed us

to Cody and enriched our stay there.

With appreciation to Ken Martin who knows

and understands the mustangs so well.

I’ll never forget Grey Face and his band.

For information about wild mustangs,

visit www.wildhorsepreservation.com.

For adoption information, go to

www.wildhorseandburro.blm.gov.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

He couldn’t believe his sister had entrusted her son to Shaye Bartholomew rather than to him. Still in shock even after two days of traveling, Dylan Malloy stepped inside the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. His gaze focused intently on the woman seated by Timmy’s tiny bed…the woman who had custody of his nephew.

Walter Ludlow’s call had been a severe blow, and Dylan was still reeling from it. His lawyer and long-time mentor, calling Tasmania from Wild Horse Junction, Wyoming, had hastily told him, “There’s no easy way to say this. Julia and Will were in a serious accident. Will died on impact. Julia hung on until Timmy was delivered, then we lost her, too.”

We lost her, too.

The words wouldn’t fade out. They’d been a shout in Dylan’s head ever since he’d heard them. Seconds later Walter had followed them with, “Julia gave Shaye Bartholomew legal guardianship. She didn’t want to burden you again.”

Dylan couldn’t wrap his mind, let alone his heart, around losing Julia. The grief enveloped him like a dark shadow that continuously seeped through him, leaving no room for anything else.

“Fight, Timmy. Fight.” Dylan heard Shaye Bartholomew encouraging Timmy, her voice breaking.

The doctor had explained Timmy’s condition to Dylan. Born twenty-eight weeks into Julia’s pregnancy, he was on a ventilator to help him breathe normally. He had a good chance to survive. But with so many tubes and wires connected to him, that was hard for Dylan to believe.

Did Shaye already think Timmy was hers? he wondered.

She hovered beside the baby, her lips moving silently. Maybe in prayer?

Dylan’s work as a wildlife photographer had taught him stillness and patience. But now he had questions, and Shaye Bartholomew held the answers.

After crossing the room, he pulled her attention from the infant bed. “Miss Bartholomew?”

She gave a small sound of surprise when she saw him and recognition dawned. They’d met at Julia’s college graduation. Shaye had been a year ahead of his sister, and the two women had become friends.

“Mr. Malloy. I’m so sorry about Julia.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.

Why did he suddenly feel as if he wanted to take this woman into his arms to give both of them some comfort?

Dylan knew he looked unkempt. He hadn’t shaved in two days, his hair was disheveled and needed a cut, his sweatshirt was streaked with lines from being slept in.

“I got here as soon as I could.” He’d been photographing kangaroos when he’d gotten the call. That seemed like eons ago.

Standing, Shaye let him come in closer to Timmy’s bed. Dylan could see the reflection of the fluorescent light on her shoulder-length, coffee-brown hair and noticed the sheen in her amber eyes. When their gazes locked, the grief inside him shifted a bit, but he let it settle back into place as he broke eye contact and stared down at his nephew.

Timmy had sandy-brown hair and green eyes…like Julia…like himself.

Softly, Shaye said, “During Julia’s pregnancy we talked about baby names. She said she wanted to name a girl after her mother, a boy after her father. Your mother and father.”

Ironically, like Julia and her husband, their parents had also been killed on a slippery road. That night, Family Services had taken the two of them to a holding facility in Cody. Back then, Dylan had had to break out of his shock to take care of his sister. Now he had to break through it to think about Julia’s baby.

Forcing his attention back to Shaye, Dylan couldn’t keep the edge from his tone when he said, “I want to know how you came to be named Timmy’s guardian. I know Will’s mother was too frail to consider—”

One of the monitors began to beep loudly. At once, a nurse appeared at Timmy’s bedside while another rushed to call a doctor.

A physician in a white coat hurried in. One of the nurses put a hand on Shaye’s arm and spoke to Dylan. “Please wait outside.”

“I want to know what’s happening,” Dylan demanded, fear for his nephew beating hard against his chest.

“We have to let them work.” Shaye tugged at Dylan’s elbow. “They know what they’re doing. The doctor will come talk to us when they get him stabilized. We have to do what’s best for him. We’re just in the way.”

After another glance at the personnel around the baby’s bed, certainty dawned that he was in the way. Dylan pulled from Shaye’s clasp and strode to the door leading outside the unit.

Had Dylan Malloy come back to mourn his sister? Or had he returned to Wild Horse Junction to claim his nephew?

Shaye took a few shallow breaths, reaching deep inside for the strength that had kept her going since the call about Julia and Will. Once in the hall, she motioned to the waiting room.

Instead of going in, Dylan paced. “I don’t want to be that far away.” His gaze shot back to the NICU. “Surely someone will tell us if he’s going to make it.”

When he ran his hand through his tawny hair, when she glimpsed again the primordial pain in his green eyes, she wished she could ease his grief. But no one could. “Have you spoken with the doctor?”

“When I was waiting for my flight in London.”

“Then you know this is all up to Timmy—how he responds to the antibiotics and the help they’re giving him.”

“I understand that. I certainly don’t understand everything else. Why did Will have Julia out in bad weather? She was almost seven months pregnant, for God’s sake!”

Understandably, Dylan was looking for somebody to blame, as people did when tragedy struck, and goodness knew Dylan and Julia had already experienced plenty of it. All Shaye could do was to tell him what she knew.

“Julia had been cooped up inside for over a week due to the bad weather. Will wouldn’t even let her step onto a snowy sidewalk because he was afraid she’d fall. But she was going stir crazy. The morning of—” Shaye’s voice broke in spite of her effort to put her own emotion aside.

Clearing her throat, she went on. “The morning of the accident, I stopped in to see her. She was in such a good mood. She said she’d cajoled Will into taking her to the Johnsons that night. The weather was supposed to hold and not turn until early morning.”

“The Johnsons practically live in the mountains,” Dylan muttered. “Those roads can be treacherous any time of the year, let alone when there’s snow on them.” He swore and turned away from her.

Unexpectedly, Shaye didn’t know what to do, and that was unusual for her. In her job as a social worker, she routinely handled sticky situations. But this one was personal. Something about this man touched her in an elemental way, and that, as well as the crisis with Timmy, made her uncertain.

Dylan faced her again, everything about him shouting restrained energy, restrained emotion, restrained frustration. “Did you know Julia was going to name you as guardian?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered quietly, bracing herself for whatever came next.

The nerve in his jaw worked. “Julia spoke often of you, Miss Bartholomew. I know you were good friends. But I need to know how this…legacy came about.”

“It’s Shaye,” she murmured, needing to be on a first-name basis without knowing why. With a nod, she motioned to the lounge again. “Let’s sit down.”

After a glance at the NICU, he followed her into the waiting room. Although she lowered herself onto one of the fabric-covered chairs, Dylan remained standing. She felt like a schoolgirl sitting in front of a principal, which was ridiculous. In her position as caseworker for the department of family services in the county, she’d learned to stand her ground. With two brothers to take care of, she’d had to be assertive or she would have been snowed under or trampled. However, in the presence of Dylan Malloy, her confidence seemed to vanish.

Taking a breath, she plunged in. “You know Julia and I met in college.”

He nodded, waiting.

“Since we were both from Wild Horse Junction, we caught rides together from Laramie to come home. At first I thought she was reserved. Then I found out she just used reserve to protect herself. She told me about what happened to your parents and about spending time in foster care.”

She remembered the story Julia had related about how Dylan and Walter Ludlow had become friends. At eighteen, Dylan had just graduated from high school and landed a job at the local paper. He’d walked into the attorney’s office saying, “I need a lawyer to petition the court to become my sister’s legal guardian.”

Julia had been eight and Dylan sixteen when they’d been orphaned, and Dylan had known his sister was unbearably unhappy in foster care. He’d moved heaven and earth to gain custody of her. He’d made sure she was safe, happy and secure until she’d gone to college. Then he’d left Wild Horse Junction to follow his own dreams.

“Julia never stopped telling me how grateful she was that you rescued her,” she added softly.

“Not soon enough,” he murmured, as if he was remembering all too well.

“As soon as you could.”

Seeming to ignore her comment, he said evenly, “After you graduated, you went on for your masters.”

“That’s right. By the time I returned to Wild Horse, Julia had met Will and they’d eloped.”

“She told me she didn’t want a big fancy wedding,” Dylan mused. “I wanted to give her one.”

“I think Julia and Will just wanted to start their life without fanfare. So many times she told me she wanted a home and family and someplace to belong.”

“She knew she could count on me,” Dylan insisted.

“Yes, she knew that, but she also realized you’d sacrificed for her for eight years. Eight years you put your dreams aside for her. She knew how much being a wildlife photographer meant to you.”

“Not as much as she did,” he protested quickly.

“You proved that,” Shaye reassured him. “You stayed here and worked on the paper when all you wanted to do was to catch a plane to someplace exotic.”

His green eyes became piercing in their intensity. “You seem to know a lot about me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s an uncomfortable feeling when I don’t know you. Have you had experience taking care of kids?”

“In my job I sometimes have to. But besides that— My mother died when I was ten. I had brothers who were eight and five. My father, a cardiologist, was gone a lot, so I had to take care of them.”

“On your own?”

“No, he hired a housekeeper, but she didn’t tell bedtime stories or know where they left their favorite toy. She didn’t take the time to make peanut butter and marshmallow crackers or help them build a clubhouse.”

“You were a sister and a mother hen?” Dylan asked perceptively.

“Sometimes that boundary blurred. I’m not so sure my brothers didn’t resent it as much as appreciate it.”

Dylan looked across the room out the window, as if trying to see into the past—perhaps the years in foster care…the years when Julia was his life…the years when he pursued his vocation. “I never tried to be a father to Julia. We were brother and sister and that was the only bond we needed. At least, I thought so.”

Now she could see he was thinking about Timmy and maybe wondering exactly why Julia had asked her to be guardian rather than him. She had explained, but maybe that explanation hadn’t been enough.

Footsteps sounded outside the waiting room and Dr. Carrera stepped inside. “We’ve got Timmy stabilized again and we’re monitoring him closely. I think it would be better for you and him if you just give us some time here. Take a break. Get something to eat or take a walk.”

“What if something happens?” She’d been staying close, hoping in some way that would help.

“I have your cell phone number,” the physician said kindly.

“You have mine, too,” Dylan interjected gruffly. “I left it with the nurses at the desk.”

The doctor looked from one of them to the other. “Legally, I know Shaye is the guardian, but I realize, Mr. Malloy, you are the blood relative. Is there something I should know about?”

When Dylan moved, he did so agilely, like one of the beautiful animals he photographed. A male tiger came to Shaye’s mind.

Standing beside the doctor now, Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “I found out about Julia on Sunday. I didn’t even have time to shower or change before I left Tasmania, and I didn’t sleep on the plane. I haven’t had a chance to absorb the fact that I don’t have a sister anymore, let alone the surprise that she wanted Shaye to be the baby’s parent. Shaye and I need time to talk.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “How about a walk outside?”

Most men would probably have asked her to share a cup of coffee either in the hospital cafeteria or in the family restaurant across the street. But not Dylan Malloy. He wanted to take a walk on a cold February evening in Wyoming. Her royal blue parka hung on an old-fashioned brass coatrack in the corner. A leather bomber jacket hung there, too, and she assumed it was Dylan’s.

Dylan’s gaze passed over her cranberry blouse and her navy slacks as well as her black shoelike boots.

“Do you mind going for a walk?” he asked her. “I suppose we could stay here and talk.”

She’d seen nothing but the confines of the hospital for the past two days. Even last night she’d curled up on the couch to get some sleep. She needed the cold to clear her head as much as he did.

Standing, she went to the rack for her parka. “I could use some fresh air.”

“If anything else occurs, I have your numbers,” the neonatologist said diplomatically, and disappeared down the hall.

Neither of them spoke as they walked to the elevator. Dylan pressed the button. Shaye wrapped her scarf around her neck then pulled her hair from under it. Reaching into her pocket, she found her knit hat and pulled it onto her head.

When they stepped into the elevator, she could feel Dylan’s gaze on her and she realized her whole body was responding to it…to him. She was warmer than she should have been and she attributed that to nerves, anxiety about Timmy and everything else that had happened. Certainly a man couldn’t make her warmer just by looking at her. That had never happened with Chad, although she’d considered herself in love with him. She’d thought he was madly in love with her. She’d been wrong. Yes, she’d loved him, but apparently Chad had seen her as convenient and disposable.

Why was she thinking about that now when there were so many other things to think about…so many things to feel? Whenever she stopped thinking, she started feeling. Missing Julia, realizing Timmy would never know his real mother, made her sick inside.

Aware of the bulk of Dylan beside her, she felt awkwardly self-conscious. She usually knew what to say and how to say it. Why not now? Because the stakes were so high and involved her becoming a mother? Because the grief they shared could form a bond neither of them might want?

In the lobby, she pulled on tan leather gloves.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Hiking is a habit for me. It’s the way I catch the right photograph, the way I solve a problem or find an answer.”

She couldn’t keep her gaze from passing over the thick hair that fell across his forehead and shagged over his collar. His hands were bare though he did wear rugged-looking shoes. “Aren’t you going to be cold? It will soon be dark and there’s a wind.”

“I don’t think a stroll around the hospital will do me in.”

According to his sister, this man had climbed a glacier to get a particular shot. Her worry for him was unwarranted. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

He held up a hand to stay her words…as an apology for his sharpness.

Looking into his very green eyes, she saw his anguish over Julia as well as Timmy. “It’s okay. Come on.”

They headed for the door.

Nestled at the foot of the Painted Peak Mountains, Wild Horse Junction had been born in the eighteen hundreds and some of the original buildings had survived. The town was a mixture of old-fashioned and modern, classic and contemporary—from Clementine’s, the saloon turned honky-tonk and now modern day bar and grill, to a saddle shop, trading post, discount store and modern hospital. Wild Horse had a little bit of everything.

Thank goodness Wild Horse Junction’s St. Luke’s Hospital had a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The unit was only three years old. A few years ago, a celebrity who spent summers on her ranch in Cody had been passing through Wild Horse Junction when she’d gone into premature labor. There had been complications, but the obstetrician at St. Luke’s had saved both the actress and her baby. To show her gratitude she had endowed the hospital with a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Although Wild Horse Junction was still basically a small town, it had become a center in Wyoming for babies born at risk.

Shaye’d thought about leaving Wild Horse once. She would have had to, to follow Chad. But she hadn’t really wanted to. Her family was here. Her good friends, Gwen and Kylie, whom she’d known since grade school, were still here. During tourist season, all kinds of people came and went, and she found them interesting and exciting. Yet most of them left and she stayed. That was the way she liked it.

Unlike Dylan Malloy.

Julia had told her how he’d dreamed of getting away from the time he was a small child, from the time his father had bought him his first camera.

“A walk around the hospital or across the street to the park?” Dylan asked as they exited the building.

“To the park.”

Wild Horse Junction’s park was an unusual one. The town had been named for the wild mustangs that used to roam the Painted Peaks but now mostly lived in the Big Horn Mountains about an hour away. Bronze sculptures of the beautiful animals had been added to the park since the early nineteen hundreds. Black wrought-iron benches were plentiful and every spring the city council made sure they were refurbished and kept in good shape for the residents come summer.

She could imagine bringing Timmy here, walking him in a stroller. When he grew older, she could see him playing on the swings at the south end of the park. During the past two days she’d purposely created pictures in her head of the future, believing they’d come true. The pictures eased her loss and kept her away from the truth that she’d never see Julia or Will Grayson again. Her eyes burned from the tears she’d shed and she almost wished she could go numb instead of having to deal with the depths of loss.

Traffic was sporadic as she and Dylan stood at an intersection to cross the street. They’d just stepped off the curb when an SUV suddenly rounded the corner and sped by them. Dylan reached for Shaye’s elbow, holding it protectively to let her know when it was safe to cross. Unlikely as the sensation was, she seemed to feel the heat from his long fingers and his large hand through the down of her jacket.

As if he sensed something, too, he looked at her, and even though the night was turning dark and shadowy, she caught an awareness on his face…some kind of current between them.

Flustered, she hurried with him across the street, his long strides making her quicken hers. As they entered the park’s winding stone-covered path, snow began to fall lightly. Shaye lifted her face and the feel of the flakes somehow seemed to cleanse her of the chaos of the past few days.

As Dylan stopped, he said huskily, “I wish I had my camera.”

“Why?”

“Because I never took a shot of a woman looking exactly like that—like you were with your face tipped up to the sky.”

Frissons of excitement shot through Shaye and she didn’t know how to respond. “Do you photograph people much? The shots in magazines Julia showed me were mostly of animals.”

“Most people like to have their picture taken. I’d rather have the challenge of capturing an animal unaware of me, photographing it in its real home, snapping interaction with the other animals. It’s all genuine and honest.”

“Unlike people?”

“People are much more complicated. Much of what they do is motivated by something.”

“Like?” she coaxed.

“Do you deal with foster families much?”

“I do.”

“Talk about motives. I know the system is overcrowded. I know there’s constantly a need for placing kids. But neither Julia nor I had pleasant experiences. The families we were placed in weren’t motivated by compassion.”

“Julia told me the foster father in the family she was placed in drank. And when he did, he became loud and abusive.”

“That’s right,” Dylan confirmed. “I had to get her out of there.”

“What about the family you were placed with?”

He shook his head as if his experience hadn’t mattered. “I wasn’t there that long.”

“Two years can feel like forever when you’re not happy.”

Stopping again, he said, “You’re perceptive.”

“I have to be, in my work. I have to use my intuition as much as my training.”

When he stared down at her, he admitted, “The family I was with just wanted the money they received every month. I was good for chores and work around the house, but there was no real caring there.”

“I’m sorry,” Shaye said, meaning it.

“That’s long ago and I’ve forgotten about it. But I saw firsthand that altruism isn’t part of what most people are about.”

“You weren’t thinking about yourself when you made a life for you and Julia.”

“She was my sister.”

Shaye could tell that was the only explanation he intended to give.

They walked for a few minutes under Russian olive trees catching the snow. Aspen branches waved in the breeze.

“Do you think she had a premonition?” Dylan asked suddenly. “Do you think that’s why she chose a guardian before the baby was born?”

“I don’t know. I do know Julia wouldn’t take any chances with a child, that she would have secured the baby’s future no matter what she had to do.”

Stopping again, he took Shaye by the arm and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re a single woman. You have a career. Do you want to be a mother to Timmy?”

This was the moment where she had to make everything she said matter. Aware of Dylan’s hand on her arm and the magnetic pull of his gaze, her curiosity about him was growing. She tamped it down.

“I want to be Timmy’s mother with all my heart and soul. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he grows up to be a man Julia would be proud of.”

Dylan’s jaw set as he studied her and analyzed her words. The white of his breath seemed to mingle with the puff of hers as a bond formed. It was a bond that she knew she didn’t want…yet couldn’t break.

With a slight nod, he broke eye contact and dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go back.”

She knew there was no going back. And that truth scared her as much as her visceral reaction to Dylan Malloy.

“You need to go to your apartment and get some sleep,” Walter Ludlow warned Dylan later that night.

Dylan paced the lawyer’s home office. His friend was a widower now and lived in one of the brick row homes not far from the center of town.

“I’m going back to the hospital,” he said resolutely.

“You’re not going to do that baby any good if you run yourself into the ground.”

Dylan hadn’t even been back to his apartment yet, hadn’t been there for six months. His luggage, laptop and camera gear were still in the trunk of the rental car he’d secured at the airport so he could drive to the hospital in a hurry.

After his walk with Shaye, he’d spent an hour with her sitting by Timmy’s bed. She’d finally left to get something to eat and when she’d returned, he’d come to Walter’s.

“I’m used to sleeping on sofas or cots or on the ground. Camping out in a chair in a waiting room isn’t going to kill me. Timmy’s in crisis right now and every hour matters. I have to do this for Julia.”

“You have to take care of yourself for Julia. She’d want that.”

Dylan’s adrenaline was pumping full-speed. He stopped pacing and made himself sit on the edge of a leather chair in front of Walter’s desk. “I thought I knew my sister inside and out, but this will of hers— Maybe I should find a PI and have him run a report on Shaye Bartholomew.”

“Don’t waste your money,” Walter advised him. “I’ve known Shaye’s family all my life. Carson Bartholomew has never been the best father. He’s a cardiac surgeon, so you can imagine the hours he keeps. He never saw much of his kids before his wife died, let alone after.”

“How did Shaye’s mother die?”

“A brain aneurysm she never knew she had. She just fell asleep one night and didn’t wake up again. After that, Carson saw to the kids’ physical needs but not much else. Although he hired a housekeeper, Shaye did the mothering, the cooking, the shopping and anything else that needed to be done. That’s what made her become a social worker, and a damn good one. I’ve been involved in some of the cases she’s handled. So don’t think a PI’s report is going to give you any more than I can tell you. She’s a good woman, Dylan. She was a good friend to Julia, and I think your sister knew what she was doing.”

Dylan’s head jerked up as his eyes met Walter’s. “You don’t think I deserve custody?”

“This isn’t a matter of deserving, boy. Julia loved you. She wanted the best life for you. She knows your blood’s in your work. Why would she want to saddle you with a baby? On the other hand, if Timmy’s with Shaye, you can be involved in his life as much as you want to be when you’re here. I’m sure she wouldn’t turn you away. That’s not Shaye, and Julia knew it.”

“I feel as if I have a responsibility—”

Walter cut him off. “You fulfilled your responsibility when you took Julia in and cared for her. Don’t be a martyr.”

Walter had never pulled punches with him and now, for the first time all day, Dylan relaxed into the chair, realizing how tired he was. Looking down at his clothes, he imagined the sight he made, needing a shave and a haircut. More than that, he needed a shower and a couple of hours of sound sleep. Maybe he could catch a few winks at the hospital.

He wasn’t a martyr, but he did care.

Standing, he zippered his jacket. “I’m going to run by my apartment to make sure everything’s still in one piece and take a shower. But if you want me, I’ll be at the hospital.”

“You always were stubborn,” Walter muttered.

“I’ve had to be.” Crossing to the door of Walter’s den, Dylan said, “Thanks for everything you’ve done. I’ll keep you informed.”

When Dylan left his friend’s house, wind buffeted him as pictures of Julia played in his mind—how happy she’d been when she’d come to live with him, how she’d cooked for him, how she’d chewed the end of her pencil as she’d solved math problems. He hadn’t come home this Christmas. He’d planned his schedule to take a break when his nephew was born.

Dylan’s eyes burned. He was just too damned tired.

As he climbed into the rental vehicle, in spite of his worry over Timmy, he saw Shaye’s face as she’d lifted it to the snowflakes. Switching on the ignition, he blanked out the image, needing to keep on an even keel, needing to forget that when he’d touched Shaye Bartholomew, everything inside him had gone on alert.

She’s just another woman.

But then he thought about his sister’s fondness for Shaye and her decision to leave her child to her friend. In turmoil, in spite of Walter Ludlow’s words, Dylan knew the next few days would be crucial in making his decision on whether to stay in Wild Horse Junction or go back to the life he’d come to love.

Chapter Two

As Dylan carried the last of his gear into his apartment, the space definitely had the feel of a bachelor pad not lived in for six months. Situated on the second floor of a rambling old farmhouse on the outskirts of town, Dylan kept it for when he returned to the area. The retired farmer who lived on the first floor kept watch for him and sent someone in to clean once a month when he wasn’t home. It had always suited his purposes just fine.

Yet now the place held so many memories of Julia and her years with him that he felt bombarded. Although he could now indulge in a bit of luxury if he wanted to, he hadn’t. Practically furnished when Julia had lived here, he’d replaced the second-hand sofa with a more contemporary comfortable one. The TV and sound system sitting on pine shelves were utilitarian, too, rather than up to date. Julia had bought the setup for him one Christmas after she and Will were married. His small kitchen with its bar and stools was functional, and he still slept in the thrift-shop bed he’d bought after he’d landed his first job. The second bedroom, which had been his sister’s, was now filled with file cabinets that stored transparencies and negatives. Cartons of photographic equipment were stacked in any spare space. A third bedroom was occupied with state-of-the-art equipment—computer, scanner, two printers and a fax machine. Julia had often shaken her head with a smile and told him he should invest in drapes rather than update his computer. But he never had.

In spite of the memories, the unlived-in feel of the apartment bothered him now, when it never had before. Because he’d lost Julia and she’d never be calling to chat with him again while he worked? She’d never be testing out a new recipe on him when he was home? She’d never be—

The thoughts tightened his chest and made breathing difficult.

After Dylan turned up the heat, he stripped off his clothes and showered, letting the sluicing hot water splash away images that were just too painful.

He’d found a pair of clean jeans and was pulling on a tan-colored, long-sleeved flannel shirt when his cell phone beeped. He’d placed it in the charger on the bedroom dresser. He picked it up, bracing himself as he switched it on.

“Mr. Malloy? It’s Dr. Carrera.”

Dylan’s heart hammered faster. “Yes, Doctor.”

“What’s your blood type?”

“AB positive.”

“Good. Timmy is anemic and we think a transfusion will help. Fortunately he’s AB positive, too. Would you be willing to give blood? Or should we go to the blood bank?”

“Of course, I’ll give blood. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Something about giving his life force to his nephew seemed right.

“Careful on the roads, Mr. Malloy. Snow’s making them slick and we don’t want any further tragedies.”

Further tragedies. Such a generic way of putting it. The words didn’t begin to cover what Dylan was feeling.

“Is Miss Bartholomew still there?” he asked before the doctor hung up.

“Yes, she is. She also wanted to volunteer for a transfusion but she’s not a match.”

A picture of Shaye was beginning to form in his mind; a picture of a woman who was a caregiver. He hadn’t known many women like that in his life and neither had Julia. Maybe that’s why his sister had gravitated toward Shaye.

Thinking first and foremost about the transfusion he was going to give Timmy, Dylan grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and headed for the hospital.

When Dylan met Dr. Carrera in the emergency room, he asked, “Is this really going to help?”

“I’m hoping it will. Nothing in medicine is a certainty.”

“Nothing in life is a certainty,” Dylan muttered.

The staff was pleasant and friendly, but Dylan wished he was anywhere but here.

That was especially so a half hour later when Shaye peeked into the cubicle. “How are you doing?” she asked.

They’d just removed the paraphernalia needed to withdraw his blood. He was glad Shaye hadn’t stopped in five minutes sooner when he’d been flat on his back. He didn’t like the idea of her seeing him as anything but strong.

“I’m fine. The toughest part of this is signing all the paperwork,” he joked. “There’s more red tape in giving blood than in applying for a visa.”

Coming into the room, she shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never been out of the U.S.”

Rolling down the sleeve of his flannel shirt, he buttoned the cuff. “Did you ever want to see the rest of the world?”

“Not really.” She came a few steps closer. “I went to a conference in New York City once and hated it. Too much hustle and bustle. I’ve also been to California, and that was okay. There’s some pretty scenery there, especially around Big Sur. But I love the mountains and the plains and the hot springs, the cactus and sage. I love the old-fashioned flavor of this town and its history.” She shrugged again. “I’m happy here.”

Her hair brushing against her cheek distracted Dylan. So did the pretty amber of her eyes. “I guess that’s the difference between us. I was never happy here. I always wanted more. I wanted to run free, stopping when I pleased, moving on when I liked.”

“Like the wild mustangs,” she remarked softly.

A nurse bustled in, bringing Dylan a glass of juice. He drank it quickly, handing the glass back with a thank-you.

She’d disappeared when Shaye said, “Julia didn’t feel like that at all. She didn’t want to wander, either. Maybe it’s a woman thing. I’ve met other men who seem to be searching for something.”

The way she said it, wandering was a dirty word. “I don’t think needing space and wanting to travel has anything to do with being male or female,” he protested, reading an underlying message in what Shaye had said…a possible story in her background.

As he stood, he felt almost exhausted.

She was by his side in an instant. “You’re looking kind of gray. Are you okay?”

“Just tired. I’m going to bunk on the sofa upstairs in the waiting room.”

Still gazing at him with those beautiful, soft, golden-brown eyes, she asked, “When was the last time you ate?”

Before he could answer, a tall, husky, bearded man in a parka appeared in the doorway. “I could ask you the same question.”

Shaye turned at the sound of an obviously familiar voice. “Randall! What are you doing here?”

“Barb sent me. She said I should hogtie you if I had to and drag you back to our place for a decent meal. You can’t live here twenty-four hours a day. Those are her words and mine. What are you doing down here, anyway? One of the nurses pointed me in this direction.”

As Shaye studied the older of her two brothers, she realized he looked as if he should work in a logging camp. Instead, he was an X-ray technician and had probably just gotten off duty.

Turning to Dylan, Shaye said, “Dylan, this is my brother, Randall. Randall, this is Julia’s brother, Dylan Malloy. He just gave blood for Timmy.”

“I see.” After he extended his condolences and Dylan thanked him, Randall glanced at Shaye thoughtfully, then back at Dylan. “You are looking a bit gray around the gills. Why don’t you come along with us? My wife always has a refrigerator full of leftovers.”

“I’ll grab something in the cafeteria,” Dylan answered, looking uncomfortable.

“The cafeteria is closed,” Shaye told him. “You’d have to get one of those dry sandwiches out of the vending machines. Come with us. We don’t have to be gone long. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

As soon as Shaye said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Nothing could help the way Dylan was feeling. But the food would help keep his body strong…and hers, too.

Dylan mulled over her advice. “I want to go upstairs first and talk to Dr. Carrera.”

“We can do that. Randall, if you don’t want to wait, I can drive us over.”

“I want to know how Timmy’s doing, too. I can wait, then I can drive you back.”

Unsettled by her reaction to Julia’s brother, Shaye watched him carefully as they all got into the elevator and went upstairs, grateful Randall was along. With a chaperone of sorts, she didn’t have to worry so much about the increase of her pulse or the excitement that tingled through her when she was close to Dylan. However, when Randall gave her an interested glance, she knew that might not be true. In the close quarters of the elevator, she could feel a pull toward Dylan that shocked her. If she had to admit it, she’d felt that same pull at Julia’s graduation when she’d met him, and had run from it.

She’d known what Dylan Malloy did for a living and she’d wanted no part of an involvement with a man like him.

A half hour later Dylan found himself seated at Barb and Randall Bartholomew’s kitchen table, enjoying a dinner of warmed-up barbecued back ribs, parsley potatoes and green beans. Shaye was daintily cutting meat off her ribs with a knife and fork while he just picked up a portion. Maybe he’d become less civilized in his travels, not in tune with the needs of humans but rather in tune with the animals he photographed.

“We’re ready for bed, Mommy,” came a childish girl’s voice from the upstairs of the old Victorian house. Dylan had met Barb and Randall’s kids briefly when he’d come in. They were six and seven, and as soon as they’d found out he photographed animals, they’d been full of questions until Randall had shooed them off to get ready for bed.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Barb called.

“I’ll go with you.” Randall pointed to the chocolate-chip brownies sitting on a dish on the counter. “Help yourselves,” he said with a wink as he and Barb left the kitchen and went to put their kids to bed.

Left alone with Shaye, uncomfortable silence fell between them. “They’re nice people,” Dylan commented.

“My brother used to be a real bug when we were growing up. He pushed the limits as far as he could to see if I could handle him or if I had to bring Dad in on it. But he’s mellowing with age.”

“Or maybe you are,” Dylan responded, recognizing changes in himself…in his way of thinking as he’d gotten older.

She gave a little laugh. “I guess that’s true.”

After Dylan finished his potatoes, he kept the conversation rolling, not only to fill the silence but because he wanted to know more about Shaye. “Randall mentioned he’s an X-ray technician.”

She set her fork beside her plate. “Yes, he is. He didn’t want to be a rancher or to run a small business. He liked the medical field but he certainly didn’t want the hours our father put in. He and Barb met in high school, so he didn’t want to spend too many years studying, either. Becoming an X-ray technician seemed to be a good compromise.”

“Does Barb work?”

“No, she’s always been available for the kids, helping out at the school. But…”

“But?”

“She’s volunteered to take care of Timmy for me once he’s out of the hospital…once I go back to work.”

“You’re making plans.” Dylan’s voice was low as he realized how Shaye’s life was going to change.

“I have to. I have to believe everything will work out. I don’t know how long Timmy will be in the hospital. After he comes home I’ll take a couple of months off and then go back about thirty hours a week for a while.”

Suddenly he thought about Timmy’s inheritance and what that could mean to Shaye. “Timmy will inherit everything of Julia’s and Will’s.” He watched her carefully to gauge her reaction.

“Yes, he will. But all of that will go into an account for his education. I don’t want to touch it.”

After Dylan thought that over, he asked, “Has Will’s mother been to the hospital to see Timmy? I know her arthritis limits her mobility.”

“She was in this morning, but it’s so painful for her to look at him. She remembers everything she’s lost. She’ll be returning to Nebraska right after the service. I promised her I’d call her often to let her know how Timmy is doing.”

Dylan knew he had to bring up what he’d been thinking and feeling. “I don’t know if it’s right for me to let you do this. I’m Timmy’s uncle and he should be my responsibility.”

Shaye’s face went pale. “A child has to be more than a responsibility, and I think Julia knew that. She also knew I love children and I’d cherish one of my own—not just feel responsible. Eventually, I’m going to file for adoption, but not until Timmy’s healthy and everything’s on an even keel. I want to be Timmy’s mother.”

Something else had been bothering Dylan. “Are you involved with anyone?” He didn’t care if the question sounded blunt because he needed to know. A beautiful woman like Shaye certainly didn’t sit alone on her free nights.

“No, I’m not,” she answered easily. “I can give all my time and attention to Timmy. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried. I was more concerned your significant other wouldn’t be able to accept a child not his flesh and blood.” He couldn’t bear to leave Timmy in a situation like that.

“I’m not involved with anyone,” she said again.

“Surely, you date.”

“Actually, I don’t very much. My work takes up a lot of my time…at least, it did before Timmy. And I socialize with my good friends on weekends, or with my family. I have a full life, Dylan. I don’t need a man in it.”

“You don’t need a man in it, or you don’t want a man in it?” Now his interest was piqued. Was Shaye just a typical modern woman who could find happiness on her own? Or was there a reason behind her independence?

She pushed her plate back and crossed her arms in front of her on the table. “You’re fishing. What do you want to know?”

In spite of himself, Dylan had to smile. He liked Shaye’s up-front attitude. “I’m wondering if you had a bad experience that made you create your life the way it is.”

When she tucked her silky hair behind one ear, the wave of it curled on her shoulder. “I was involved with someone when I was in college. It didn’t end well.”

If he wasn’t careful, he knew she’d clam up and not tell him more. “When you were an undergrad?” he asked.

“No, when I was working on my master’s degree. He was a guest lecturer—an archeologist.”

Sensing Shaye wouldn’t go on unless he poked a bit, he did. “He wanted you to leave Wild Horse Junction with him, but you wanted to stay here.”

“Not exactly. I loved him. I thought we were building something important. I would have gone with him if he had asked. But he didn’t ask. He received a grant for a dig in India, and he didn’t even consider taking me with him.”

“Maybe he guessed you wouldn’t be happy.”

“I never had a chance to find out…because apparently his feelings for me weren’t as deep as mine were for him.”

Although Shaye had recounted her story as if it were old history, Dylan could hear the refrain of betrayal that ran through it—the pain that had never completely gone away.

“How about you?” she asked.

He’d left himself wide open for that one. “My life hasn’t been conducive to serious involvement.”

“But it is to non-serious involvement?”

The hint of disapproval in the question had him watching how he answered. “Even a wanderer needs company besides his camera now and then.” Though truth be told, that kind of company wore thin and he’d rather be alone or trekking after a photograph he’d never taken before.

As if his answer disturbed her, Shaye restlessly rearranged her silverware, stood and picked up the plate of brownies on the counter. When she brought them over to the table, she set them in front of him.

“Not interested?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I don’t give in to chocolate cravings often because I know it’s habit-forming.”

“I admire your willpower.”

“I’m not sure willpower has anything to do with it.” She smiled back. “I’m just vain.”

“I doubt that.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Why would you say that?”

“Because selfish people are vain, and I already know that you’re not selfish.”

Her cheeks took on some color. Leaning away from him and their conversation, she began to clear the table. “We’d better get back to Timmy. I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Neither do I.” Timmy was the only essence of Julia he had left. Seeing him made losing Julia even more real. But seeing him also reminded Dylan the baby was an essential part of his sister that he could hold on to.

Dylan’s deep, heartfelt words turned Shaye to face him once again. Their gazes locked and held. A vision of holding Shaye in his sleeping bag under the stars was so incredibly real, he ached to do it. His physical response was so strong that he set his brownie back on the plate. It seemed the pain he was experiencing over the loss of his sister was rebounding into an attraction to Shaye.

Breaking eye contact, he muttered, “I think I’ll skip dessert, too.” She obviously knew what was good for her. Dylan reminded himself what was good for him. While he was in Wild Horse Junction, Timmy was his main concern…his only concern.

Dylan stood in the NICU, looking down at his nephew. He’d let Shaye visit first since he needed a little time to prepare. He wasn’t sure what he’d prepared for because the sight of the tiny baby on the ventilator to help him breathe was heartbreaking. All Dylan could do was wish Timmy life, wish him good health, wish Timmy could have known his mother and father. Dylan had long ago stopped praying, stopped believing that someone had a master plan.

After losing his parents, after losing Julia to the foster care system for a while, he’d known a man created his own destiny. If he didn’t take control of it, others would. Now, standing beside Timmy’s bed, he wished he could believe that prayer could make a difference. He wished he could believe that one day he’d see his parents and Julia again.

After his visiting time with Timmy was up, he went to the waiting room. Shaye wasn’t there, though her coat hung beside his on the rack. By the time he crossed to the window to look down on the lamplit street, Shaye came through the door, her arms full of pillows and blankets.

“I thought we might need these.”

He’d been in such shock when he’d first arrived, confused by his sister’s decision, that he hadn’t completely appreciated Shaye’s beauty. In spite of that, her presence had impacted him and now he realized why. Her silky burnished-brown hair moved around her face when she walked. He’d seen amber mined from the earth that was the rich color of her golden-brown eyes. When he was close enough to her, he could just make out the smattering of almost invisible freckles on her cheeks. From what he could tell, she didn’t use makeup to try to cover anything, and he liked that natural look. Now, as she walked across the room, he couldn’t help but admire her trim figure.

He glanced again at her arms full of blankets and pillows. There was one long sofa in the waiting room and several chairs.

“I’ll push two of the chairs together,” Dylan told her as he slipped a pillow and blanket from her arms.

“You won’t be able to sleep like that.”

“I’ve slept on worse. Don’t forget, I’m used to a tent.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not,” Shaye argued with him, “you’re practically dead on your feet. I’m not there yet, but getting there fast.”

She glanced at the sofa. “I checked to see if they had any of those recliners we could wheel in, but they’re all in use. We’ll have to share. From the looks of the sofa, we can both stretch out.” When she added the last with a little smile, he realized he liked her positive outlook. He liked a lot of things about her.

“We can try it,” he said doubtfully. “On the other hand, you could go back to your place and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Or you could go back to your place and I could call you.”

Already Dylan knew Shaye wouldn’t budge on this. “The sofa it is,” he decided, going to it and shaking out the blanket.

The whole idea of sharing the sofa seemed like a common sense one until Shaye plunked on one end and looked at him as if to figure out how to accomplish the feat.

“You can put your legs on the inside,” he suggested.

Propping her pillow against the arm of the sofa, she swung her legs up close to the back. “It’s a good thing this is wide.”

“And long,” Dylan remarked, lying back against his pillow.

After he swung his feet up beside Shaye’s hip, he crossed one over the other to take up less room. She was small and he was long. Somehow they seemed to fit like two puzzle pieces. The thing was, his legs were smack against hers. Even with corduroy and denim between them, he found he couldn’t help but imagine the curve of her leg, the probable smoothness of her skin.

Aroused, he picked up the blanket and tossed it over them. He’d simply been without a woman for too long. That was all. However, as he lay there, he could smell the traces of a sweet, rose-scented perfume that did as much to arouse him as her leg against his. He’d noticed it earlier and wondered if it was shampoo or lotion or perfume. Wondering about it brought other visions he didn’t want to entertain—Shaye smoothing lotion on her arms, Shaye dabbing perfume on her pulse points, Shaye under the shower washing her hair…

Damn! He must be more than sleep deprived if he couldn’t control the path of his thoughts. Dylan considered himself flexible, but he always liked to be in control. Since he’d returned to Wild Horse Junction, he didn’t seem to have any control. He’d left the small town to run his own life…to find freedom…to take what he wanted in a world that was so big he couldn’t explore it all.

Uncomfortable silence filled the waiting room. Dylan didn’t move, not wanting to remind himself of how close Shaye was. His mind told him to close his eyes so his body could sleep.

Instead of closing his eyes, curiosity nudged him to ask, “You said you have another brother besides Randall?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What does the other one do?”

“John manages the feed store.”

“Is he married?”

“Nope.”

His mind wandered back to their dinner at Randall and Barb’s. “You were great around your brother’s kids. It’s obvious they like you to visit.”

“I try to spend Sunday evenings with them.”

He had never been around kids at all. Although Shaye’s mother had died, she knew a lot about being a mother from a practical standpoint.

Veering off that track, he suddenly wanted to know more. “How did you survive growing up with a house full of males?”

She laughed, a soft musical sound that seemed to ripple through him. “It wasn’t easy. I often felt as if I were on an alien planet. But I have two really good friends who I’ve known since grade school. They were my ‘sisters.’ Once all of us started riding bikes, we could get to each other’s places. I had plenty of girl-time with them.”

“The three of you are still friends?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without them. When I got the call about Julia… They both stayed with me the first day until I finally shooed them off. Gwen, Kylie and I have been through a lot. We’re always there for each other.”

Shaye’s life was hard for Dylan to fathom. She had lots of family and close friends. He had friends, but they were colleagues, not anyone he’d turn to in times of trouble.

Tomorrow he’d have to tend to Julia’s memorial service, contact Will Grayson’s widowed mother to find out if she wanted to have the service separately or together.

After a considering moment, he asked Shaye, “Was Julia happy?”

Shaye’s voice was gentle. “Yes, she was happy. Couldn’t you tell?”

“The last couple of years, I didn’t know if she was just putting on her party face when I was in town. She seemed happy when she e-mailed me. She told me about everything she and Will did together when they weren’t working. Was that real or was she just filling the screen so I’d have something to read?”

“It was real. She and Will liked being together and I rarely saw them apart. When Will found out she was pregnant, he brought home balloons and a teddy bear that was almost as tall as Julia was. They were very happy, Dylan. Never doubt that.”

The week ahead loomed like a dark specter. “I’m going to have to go through her things.”

“Yes, you are. It might be easier to pack them up and put them in storage, then wait a few months till you actually sort them. When my mom died, my dad left her things alone for months. Then slowly, my brothers and I would see a carton go to Goodwill…a few weeks later, another one. Everyone deals with grief in his or her own way.”

Dylan remembered the nights he’d spent in foster care after their parents had died, when he’d been separated from Julia. He hadn’t been able to cry. His eyes had stung, his body had felt heavy with a monumental weight. After a few zombie-like days, he’d begun planning how he would see his sister again, how he would make a life for the two of them. He’d always been a man of action and that was the hardest part of watching Timmy in the NICU. There was absolutely nothing Dylan could do.

Shaye shifted, her hip brushing his leg. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry about it,” he returned automatically, then finally closed his eyes. If he slept, he could escape everything for a few hours.

When he awakened, he’d know what to do.

Six hours later Dylan knew he’d slept in the deep, dreamless world he needed. Glancing at the window, he saw the barest hint of light in the gray sky.

Unable to help himself, his gaze fell on Shaye. She hadn’t moved much, either. Her face was turned toward the back of the sofa, her hair spreading out over the pillow. His fingers suddenly itched to touch it.

Not wanting those yearnings to start all over again, he lowered his feet to the floor.

Coming awake, Shaye hiked herself up on her elbows until she was sitting against the arm of the sofa.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He studied his watch, the hands visible under the light of the lamp that had burned all night.

“I should find one of the nurses and see how Timmy’s doing.”

“They would have come for us if there had been a change.”

Running a hand through her hair, Shaye swung her legs to the floor. She was close enough that their knees brushed, close enough that his shoulder would graze hers if he leaned a little toward her.

Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair again. “I must look a sight.”

“You look fine.” Very fine. His body was humming a song he didn’t know. He’d wanted to kiss women before but not in this same high-potency, high-need kind of way.

So he didn’t touch her. Instead he rubbed his hand over his beard stubble. “I need a shave.”

“You shaved last night.” Her cheeks reddened because her comment told him she’d noticed.

“If I grew a beard, life would be a lot simpler.”

“Do you ever grow a beard?” she asked.

“Sometimes when I’m on a shoot.”

Sitting like this, he thought he felt the desire in her to touch him, just as he had a desire to touch her. Should he find out? Maybe if he quelled his curiosity, he wouldn’t have such a strong reaction to her. Maybe he wouldn’t get aroused every time he breathed her in.

“Do you wear perfume?” he murmured.

Her eyes still on his, she shook her head. “Lotion and powder.”

“What’s it called?”

“Rose Glory.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what happened then—if he reached out to touch her hair or if she leaned into him. The shadowy haze of night, the hush of early morning wrapped around them, creating a world apart. Dylan’s hand clasped her shoulder and when he bent his head, she turned her face up to his. There was a bond between them that had to do with Julia and Timmy and everything they’d both lost. But there was something else, too…electricity that only had to do with the two of them. It zipped and sizzled now as his lips neared hers, as he noticed her wide-eyed look of longing, as he thought about what kissing a woman like Shaye would mean.

Kissing a woman like Shaye. He must be out of his mind!

Dropping his hand away from her and raising his head, he knew he had to give an explanation. “We don’t want to start something we can’t finish.”

Looking startled, it took her a moment to grasp the meaning of his words. Then she blinked and rose to her feet. “There’s nothing to start. There’s nothing to finish. I’m going to see if Timmy’s doctor came into the hospital yet.”

Before Dylan could agree that that was a good idea, she hurried out the door and down the hall.

Standing, Dylan decided not to go after her. He’d get them some black coffee instead so they’d be ready for whatever came next.

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