Читать книгу His Woman, His Child - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 10

Three

“T hat’s the last box,” Hank said as he closed the car trunk. “I’ll take these things over to the shelter in Marshallton tomorrow.”

Susan stood on the front porch, the last rays of sunlight streaking her light brown hair with gold. She looked so small and fragile and alone, like a drifting soul seeking a safe haven. He wanted to open his arms and tell her to come to him—that she could find sanctuary there, within the boundaries of his protection. He could offer, but would she accept?

He hesitated by the car, watching her as she waited for him, her head bowed and her eyes downcast. Two cats curled about her legs and two fat little dogs stood guard on either side of her. Sweet Susan, with a heart as big as all outdoors. He’d never known anyone who loved animals the way she did. And every critter on earth took to her as if she were one of them.

How was he going to be around this woman—this kind, gentle, loving woman—let alone take care of her for the next year, without making love to her?

Women came and went in his life. He had deliberately steered clear of long-term relationships and women who would expect more of him than he was willing to give. He liked women—hell, he loved women. And they seemed to not only like him, but to be drawn to him. Jake had once told him that the fairer sex was attracted to Caleb because he was so damn pretty and later because he was a superstar athlete. And they were attracted to Hank because he was such an old-fashioned, Southern gentleman, with a hint of danger to pique their interest.

Susan Redman was different. She was absolutely nothing like the women he had dated. She was quiet and shy and a little naive. And she made him want her in a way that shook him badly. He was a man who took pride in always being in control of his actions and his emotions. But his attraction to Susan undermined his iron will.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” he asked, not wanting to leave. Not yet

She lifted her head and focused her gaze on him. Even at a distance, he could see the sheen of tears misting her eyes. God, honey, don’t cry, he wanted to tell her. Lowell wouldn’t have wanted you to be in so much pain. And I can’t bear seeing you like this.

“No. There’s nothing else to be done. Not today.” She smiled weakly and the sight of her sad little face unnerved him.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll go.” Don’t let me leave, he silently pleaded. Ask me to stay. Think of a reason to keep me here. He turned his back to her.

“Wait!” She took several hesitant steps forward, then halted at the edge of the porch.

He snapped his head around and walked up the brick walkway. “What is it?”

“I—I need to talk to you.” She held her hands together in front of her, as if she had to restrain herself from reaching out for him.

“Sure.” He walked up the steps and stopped directly in front of her, only a couple of feet separating them. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

His gaze followed hers as she glanced around, noticing that Mrs. Dobson, whose house was across the street, was thoroughly cleaning the glass in her front door and that Mrs. Brown, whose house was on Susan’s right, was sweeping her porch. Small towns were full of curious people and busybodies who couldn’t keep their noses out of other people’s business. No doubt both Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Dobson would take note of his presence and report to their friends and neighbors. Personally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought or what they said, but he knew Susan probably cared. After all, she had to live and work in Crooked Oak and would be raising her child here.

“Let’s go inside.” She eased backward and opened the front door.

Hank followed her, but before he stepped inside the foyer, he turned and waved at Mrs. Dobson across the street. She waved back and smiled.

Then he called out, “How are you, Mrs. Brown?”

The gray-haired woman blushed, but smiled warmly. “Just fine, Hank. Good to see you’re looking after our Susan.”

Hank waved. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me around here.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mrs. Brown said.

Hank entered the foyer where Susan waited, hands in front of her, head bowed and eyes glancing up shyly.

“They’ve been hovering over me like mother hens ever since Lowell died. They’re nosy, but their hearts are in the right place.”

“Yeah, I know. I grew up in this town, remember?”

“Close the door, please.”

He did as she asked. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She rubbed her hands together repeatedly. “While you’re here in Crooked Oak, finishing up Lowell’s term as sheriff, you’re going to need a place to stay.”

“That’s right.” What was she getting at? What was she trying to say. “I’m going to contact a Realtor tomorrow. Sheila’s told me that I’m welcome to stay with them as long as I’d like, but I really need a place of my own.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “Hank, I—I...”

She turned from him. Her small shoulders trembled. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Shivering uncontrollably, she breathed in a gasping sob.

“You’re not alone, Susan,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I know how difficult it’s going to be for you without Lowell, but I promise I’m going to be here for you during your pregnancy. I want to help make things as easy for you as possible.”

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.

“I suppose you mean things like mowing the lawn and cleaning the storm windows and—”

“Yes, of course that’s what I mean.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He paused momentarily and then said, “How about going out to dinner tomorrow night? We could drive over to Marshallton.”

“How about my cooking dinner for us here?”

“I’ll stop by for dinner first and then you can show me the apartment. Will six o’clock be okay?”

“Yes. Six will be fine.”

Susan made her way up the wooden stairs that led to the rooms above the garage. One by one, she closed the windows she had opened early this morning to air out the place, and quickly turned on the wall heaters. She breathed in deeply and smiled. The place smelled fresh and clean. She had swept, mopped, vacuumed and dusted this morning before she’d driven to Marshallton for her first doctor’s appointment.

Carrying the bed linen, she entered the bedroom, then dropped the quilts and spread on top of the dresser and tossed the bottom sheet onto the bed. When she finished making the bed, she stood back and inspected her handiwork. This was going to be Hank’s bedroom for the next year, only a stone’s throw away from her. He was going to sleep in that bed every night—so close and yet so far away.

She could picture Hank in this room, in this bed. Did he sleep in his underwear? In pajamas? In the nude? The thought of Hank lying naked across the bed sent shivers through Susan’s body. He was tall and muscular, a big man, yet lean in his hips and belly. She could remember how he’d looked as a teenager wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff jeans when he’d washed his old car or mowed the lawn. Even then his body had been breathtakingly gorgeous. How many times had she stared at him so long and hard that Sheila and Tallie had dragged her away? As she grew older, she’d hidden her obsession with Hank more easily, until by the time he got out of college, she’d been able to see him and talk to him without showing the least sign of interest.

Aunt Alice had warned her that men like Hank Bishop weren’t the marrying kind. That smart, good-looking, ambitious boys like Hank were the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. And Aunt Alice had known from personal experience. She’d given her heart to such a man and he’d given it back to her in broken pieces.

“Don’t trust passion, Susan,” Alice Williams had said. “When a man makes you want him so badly that you’d sell your soul to be with him, stay away from him. He’s dangerous. He’ll wind up breaking your heart and tossing you aside like yesterday’s trash.”

She had fought her feelings for Hank Bishop for as long as she could remember. She’d shied away from him, knowing her aunt had been right. Even if she could’ve made Hank notice her, even want her, he never could have offered her the life she wanted—marriage, children and happily-ever-after contentment. With Hank, she might have known passion, might have soared to the heavens in his arms, but at what price? She hadn’t been willing to risk everything for an affair with Hank. Marrying Lowell had been the right thing to do—or so she’d thought.

Marrying Lowell, loving Lowell, hadn’t made her forget Hank. Hadn’t made her stop wanting him. Every time Lowell had made love to her, she’d wanted him to be Hank. She had cheated the dearest, kindest man in the world out of his rightful place in her heart. And she’d felt guilty the entire two years they were married. But guilt was a useless emotion. She couldn’t change anything—not then and not now.

The funny thing was, Lowell would want her to be happy. And if Hank Bishop was what made her happy, then Lowell would bless their union.

What union? She wasn’t married to Hank and she wasn’t likely to ever be. That’s the shy, meek Susan talking, she told herself. She knew she shouldn’t listen to her. She was tired of listening to her. After all, she was carrying Hank’s baby. Hank, the man she loved. The man she’d always loved. Wasn’t it about time she grew a backbone and took a chance? Maybe she wasn’t the most beautiful, exciting woman he’d ever known. Maybe he truly believed he didn’t want to get married and have children. But she could change his mind. She could make him love her. She could...