Читать книгу Gavin's Child - Caroline Cross - Страница 11

The room seemed to tilt beneath Annie’s feet. “You’re not serious.”

Gavin set down his mug, settled back and linked his hands across his lean, hard middle. “Oh, yes, I am.”

The way he said it made her skin prickle. He sounded exactly like the old Gavin, the one who’d always gotten whatever he went after.

Yet this—this was unthinkable. “But the house is so small. There’s no spare room…” She raked her hair away from her face, verbally grasping at straws while she struggled to clear her sleep-fogged mind.

His gaze followed the movement of her hand, up, then down, and the strong, masculine line of his mouth flattened out. Before she could divine his intention, he reached toward the rocker, snagged the shirt draped across the seat and tossed it at her. One black brow slashed up sardonically. “Why don’t you put that on? I wouldn’t want you to catch cold or anything.”

Like a slap in the face, the comment brought her completely awake. She grabbed for the shirt and snatched it out of the air, painfully aware not only of the brevity of her attire, but that beneath her clinging camisole, her nipples were tightly, unmistakably beaded.

Heat burned in her cheeks. At the same time a shiver went through her, although, until this moment, she hadn’t been aware she was cold. With hands that trembled, she slid her arms gratefully into the soft flannel, only to still as the sleeves tumbled over her fingertips, the shirttail drifted down her thighs, and Gavin’s scent—soap, fresh air, a hint of freshly milled wood and him—wafted around her.

Too late she realized the flannel shirt was his, the one he’d been wearing earlier over his T-shirt.

Instantly she lifted her shoulders to shrug off the garment, only to stop as she glanced up and found him watching. His expression was as cool as ever, but there was a hint of challenge in his celestial blue eyes. It suggested he fully expected her to reject his offering like the shy, timid little virgin she’d been when he married her, a woman who’d only ever known one lover.

Him.

So, Annelise? scoffed a mocking little voice in her head. That’s precisely what you are.

Yes. But she was damned if she’d broadcast the fact to him. Not after the way he’d tossed her aside like yesterday’s newspaper. Let him at least wonder, insisted her shattered pride.

She forced a smile to her lips, freed a hand and rolled up one cuff, then the other, lifted her arms and flipped her hair free of the upturned collar. “Thanks. That does feel better.” With what she hoped was the air of a woman who regularly entertained men while wearing nothing but their shirt and her underwear, she walked over, curled up in the rocker and tried to appear unfazed. “But you still can’t move in.”

His face might have been carved from stone. Except for a slight pulse visible at the base of his throat, he showed no emotion at all. “Why? Because this place is so small?” He leaned back and shrugged, dismissing her objection with an indolent gesture that made the beautifully curved muscle in his shoulders round. “So we’ll find someplace bigger.”

“No,” she said flatly. “This is my home. I’m not giving it up. And there is no more we. Remember?”

She would never forget. His words were burned on her heart, scored by a thousand tears. It’s over, Annie. You were just a pretty trophy, a way to show how far up I’d come in the world. I don’t want to see you back at Colson again.

She brought up her chin. “I wouldn’t live with you in a place the size of Buckingham Palace.”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah? Well, pardon the hell out of me, but I didn’t think your personal comfort, or mine, was the issue. I thought it was Sam’s welfare we were supposed to consider. With me here, at least he’d get to stay home at night and sleep in his own bed—not get stashed God knows where. Or don’t you care about that?”

Indignation blazed through her. “Don’t you dare speak to me about caring! You don’t have a clue what I’ve gone through to make a home for Sam these past few years.”

His blue eyes darkened. “And whose fault is that, Annie?”

“Yours,” she said flatly.

Their gazes clashed, and for a moment she was sure she’d gone too far, that he’d lash back.

Instead, after a taut silence, he was the first to look away. True, it was to glance pointedly around, his expression less than flattering as it encompassed the room and its furnishings before coming to rest on her face. But still, it was something.

“Come on. Be reasonable,” he said gruffly, his tone a fraction less chilly, a trifle more persuading than it had been before. “This is hardly the lap of luxury. I’ve got a steady job, and I’m making good money. Think of all the things we can do for our son if we pool our resources. Not to mention how much better it’ll be for him to have both of us watching out for him.”

For a moment she actually wavered. Not because he was making an effort to be reasonable. And not because of the money, either, although it would be a relief to have something left over at the end of the month to set aside for emergencies.

No, it was the last part of his statement that almost made her give in. Because the truth was that his presence would alleviate the constant fear she’d lived with since Sam’s birth, about who would take care of her little boy if something were to happen to her.

And then Gavin drummed his fingers against his thigh, and she noticed he was no longer wearing his wedding ring. Furthermore, given the even tan that bronzed his hand, it was obvious he hadn’t worn it for some time.

Reality crashed down on her like the sky falling. What was she thinking? It was one thing to allow him to get acquainted with Sam. It was something else entirely to let him become an integral part of her little boy’s life. Not when she had firsthand knowledge of the transitory nature of his devotion, the flexible attitude he brought to his commitments.

And not when she knew for herself how natural it was for a child to idolize a father, to wrongly take the blame when nothing ever proved to be enough for the man.

She didn’t want that for Sam.

She shook her head. “No, Gavin. It’s out of the question.”

He gave her a long, unreadable look. “Is that your final word?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it, then.” He straightened, slid his feet to the floor, reached for his boots and pulled them on. “You can’t say I didn’t give it a try. I guess I’ll see you in court.”

She was so stunned by his apparent capitulation, it took a moment for the import of that last, quietly murmured statement to penetrate. “What?”

The smile he sent her was mocking. “What did you expect, Annie? That I’d just walk away? Think again.”

Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed a handful of dust. “What—what do you mean?”

“I mean—” he climbed to his feet, towering over her as he stamped his heels down into his boots “—that I intend to be part of my kid’s life, no matter what. If that means I have to sue you to establish my custody rights, so be it.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “But th-that’s crazy! You’d never win.”

“Why? Because I have a record?” He shook his head, a caricature of a smile still on his face. “Forget it. Besides search for you, one of the things I did this week was talk to a lawyer. According to him, the fact that I served time doesn’t automatically make me an unfit parent. As a matter of fact, in his opinion, it isn’t nearly as big a deal as your attempt to conceal my son’s existence from me. Apparently, fathers’ rights are a pretty hot issue these days.”

Her stomach plummeted toward her ankles. “You’d do that? Drag Sam through the courts? Make him a hot issue, a bone to be fought over?” She squeezed her eyes shut, recalling the endless speculation and hounding by the Denver press that had accompanied the scandal. An ugly custody battle would be sure to revive the whole mess. She felt sick at the thought of Sam becoming the focus of such relentless scrutiny.

Gavin stared coldly at her. “Not me, Annie. You. All I want is a chance to be part of the boy’s life. But if you want a fight—fine. I’ll give you that, too. Whatever it takes.”

Panic rolled through her. She felt as if she were being driven into a tight and airless corner, while he…

He looked coolly confident, as big and unyielding as one of the Rocky Mountain peaks that dominated the western horizon.

Clearly, she’d underestimated his determination.

Just as she’d overestimated her own. Not only did she not have the money for a legal battle, she simply didn’t have the stomach for it. If it were only her, she might chance it. But when it came to Sam…

The possible price was too high. Even if she knew she would win, she simply couldn’t risk her son’s security, his happiness, his opportunity to have a normal, average home life, by making him the object of that kind of bitter fight.

And what if she lost? What if she were forced to share custody, to hand Sam over to Gavin for a day, a week, a month at a time? It wasn’t that she thought Gavin would be an unfit parent; yet even if he qualified for Father of the Year, to Sam he would still be a stranger.

There was no escaping the truth. No matter how she felt, she had to do what was best for Sam. And what would be best for Sam would be for him to get to know Gavin here, in his own familiar home, where she could be on hand to help and watch over him.

But it would only work if it was done on her terms.

She took a deep breath. Without quite knowing how she got there, she found herself on her feet, needing to meet Gavin on a more equal level when she capitulated. “All right. You win. You can move in.”

A deep, savage satisfaction lit his eyes, turning them as blue as a hot summer sky. “Good.”

She smiled faintly. “On one condition.”

Suspicion hardened his features in an instant. “What’s that?”

“Where Sam’s concerned, regarding discipline, rules, setting limits, I have the final word.”

He didn’t like it, but then, she hadn’t expected him to. His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because he’s only two and a half years old. Right now, he’s testing his boundaries, and he needs consistency. I don’t want him caught between us, getting two different sets of signals.”

He thought about it. “Okay,” he said finally, then promptly imposed a condition of his own. “That’s fine…for now. As long as we can talk about it in a month or two.”

In a month or…two? Suddenly, the enormity of what she’d agreed to slammed into her full force. She was actually going to live with Gavin again. They would eat off the same set of plates and drink from the same glasses. They would share a newspaper and shower in the same tub. His clothes would mingle with hers in the hamper.