Читать книгу His Ten-Year-Old Secret - Donna Clayton, Donna Clayton - Страница 11

Chapter Two

The broad expanse of his chest made the navy, run of-the-mill uniform shirt look not quite so run-of-the-mill. The rolled-up sleeves revealed powerful, tanned hands and forearms, the open collar, a corded neck that invited a woman’s lips to explore.

Tess started with a tiny twitch, her eyes widening. Where had that thought come from?

From the deepest depths of your memory, came a silent answer. That most sensuous of places that Dylan had awakened when you were just seventeen.

Well, she decided, such thoughts would simply have to go straight back to wherever they came from, and she’d have to shut the door on them. Lock the door on them. And toss away the key.

After checking the street traffic one more time, she inched across the intersection and then steered toward the asphalt parking lot of the garage.

She stopped the car, its engine idling softly. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered to herself. “What are you doing?” Did she really believe Dylan would want to see her after all this time? After all the mean words they had hurled at each other?

But that seemed like a lifetime ago. They were both adults now, weren’t they?

She cringed at the question, remembering how very grown-up she’d thought she’d been at seventeen. Seventeen and pregnant.

Again, she brushed her memories of the past aside, turning the key to cut the engine. There were questions that needed answers. She really didn’t care one way or the other if Dylan would want to see her. He was going to see her.

Tess got out of her car, but it was the sound of her car door closing that had him looking her way. He called out for the driver of the big, white Cadillac to stop, and the car halted with a slight jerk.

His dark head tilted the tiniest bit and those deep green eyes of his narrowed, a frown creasing his brow.

She stopped about ten feet from him. A buffer zone of sorts.

“Hello, Dylan,” she said, reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses.

His gaze widened with recognition when she spoke, almost as though he’d known who she was, but refused to believe it until she actually addressed him. A dozen wild gypsies stomped out a boisterous jig on her nerves as she awaited his response.

Ho-ly hell! Tess. Tess Galloway. How she’d changed!

The teenage girl who had knocked him out of his high-top basketball sneakers all those years ago had been rail-thin, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks irresistible to him then.

Apparently the coltish Tess had grown up. Her girlish figure had filled out with the kind of womanly curves that fueled a man’s dreams when he was asleep and vulnerable. And not a single freckle could be found on her pale-as-moonlight complexion. Her manicured nails told him she’d broken the childish proclivity of nibbling on them when she was worried. Remembering how she’d lamented, again and again, what she’d thought was an unbreakable habit, he nearly smiled. Nearly. But he successfully reined it in.

But one thing about her hadn’t changed. Her eyes. Brown as rich, dark chocolate, and just as luscious.

That gaze alone was enough to have his libido churning down low in his gut. But put together the whole package, the angelic face, the bewitching curves, and no man was safe against a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with food. The grown-up Tess Galloway would tweak the sexual appetite of any man.

Reaching into his back pocket with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he pulled out an oily old rag. He wiped at the grease on his forearm and said, “Well, well, well.”

Immediately he bit down on a silent groan. For years he’d practiced what he’d say if Tess were ever to show up in his life again. He’d filled a multitude of aching, need-filled nights imagining this moment, coming up with witty, double entendres meant to show her how great he was doing without her and make her regret leaving Pine Meadow, leaving him. But what had just come out of his mouth couldn’t have sounded more lame.

Absently he stuffed the rag into his back pocket. “Look what just blew in with the wind.”

Oh, Lord. He was going from bad to worse.

It was this damned surge of testosterone, he knew. The rush of hormones was hogging his body’s blood flow, making it impossible for his brain, or his tongue, to function properly.

Enough! the logical part of his mind cut in like a razor-edged knife. Why the hell are you lusting after this woman? Isn’t she the one who left you all alone? Isn’t she the one who sent Erin to you with an attitude so casual, so blase, it seemed to say she thought their child was like some stray mutt that needed tending?

His jaw clenched tight. Good. Anger. Strong enough to sink his teeth into. Strong enough to suffocate the desire burning a hole deep in his belly.

Like a flurry of sharp blows to his chin, memories bombarded him. Erin, crying with diaper rash, and he, a new father who knew zip about a cure. Erin, sick and weepy with a high fever. Erin, demanding attention when he was nothing but dog tired after a long day at work.

Excellent, he thought. He wanted to recall all the bad experiences he’d had as a single father. He urged those fearful, nerve-racking, irritating memories forward, in fact They would be the perfect stones and mortar to build himself a sturdy wall of defense against the woman standing in front of him.

“So—” he heard the clipped edge in his tone and liked it, latched onto it, actually, as if it was some kind of weapon with the ability to protect him “—you’ve finally come to see how your little puppy dog has fared after all these years.”

A light autumn breeze blew a few wayward strands of her glorious red hair into her face and she shoved them back with her free hand, her long nails combing through the tresses with one smooth stroke. Only when her face was free from obstruction did he see the bewilderment knitting her brow, clouding those gorgeous mahogany eyes.

“My little...”

Her words faded as she stopped to moisten her lips, and the sight of her delicate pink tongue sent his heart hammering his ribs like the pistons of a prime, asskicking 100-horse-power engine. Why had time turned her into such a beautiful and elegant swan?

Not that she’d been an ugly duckling as a teen. No stretch of the imagination could have him saying that. Hell, she’d been cute as a damn kitten. He was reminded just how cute she’d been every time he looked at Erin—Tess’s spitting image. But the years that had passed had made the woman in front of him far more than merely attractive. She was a radiant, dazzling diamond.

Suddenly he blinked. Was that pain he read in her gaze? What the hell did she have to feel hurt about?

“I never thought of you like that, Dylan,” she said softly. “I never did.”

Rage flashed red before his eyes like leaping flames.

“Me?” he snarled. “I’m not talking about me.”

The frown in her brow bit deeper, but he was so infuriated he couldn’t be bothered giving it a second thought.

“I’m talking about the little stray you so heartlessly sent back to me,” he ranted on quietly. “The waif you thought was so useless you didn’t even give her a name before you got rid of her.”

“I’m—”

Dylan watched her head shake, her hand raise to splay at the base of her throat.

“I, ah, I don’t under—”

Erin chose that very moment to shut off the engine, open the heavy door of the Caddy and get out of the car. Glancing back over his shoulder, he was grateful to see that the car’s windows had been closed. Maybe the noise of the idling engine had kept his daughter from hearing what he’d said. Lord, he hoped so. The last thing he wanted was for Erin’s self-esteem to be injured by thinking she hadn’t been wanted. Although that was the fact of the matter—at least from Tess’s side of things.

“Daa-aad.” Erin drew out the word as only an eager, impatient kid could. “You said I could park Mrs. Warrington’s Caddy. Please don’t change your mind. I already got it halfway out the door and I didn’t hit nothin’ yet.”

“You didn’t hit anything yet.” This probably wasn’t the best time to correct Erin’s grammar, but the action was automatic. Besides, he couldn’t have his daughter speaking like a heathen, now, could he?

Erin must have realized they weren’t alone because she grew quiet and came to stand beside him.

“Hi,” she said to Tess, offering a friendly smile.

“My name’s Erin. Erin Minster. How are ya today?”

The daddy in Dylan couldn’t help but feel a prideful tug inside. Erin had never had a problem with shyness, that was for sure, and he’d taught her that amiability was a great way to secure the return business of customers.

Tess didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop Erin. “You having car trouble?” the child tried again. “You’ve come to the right place, ’cause my dad can fix anything that runs on gasoline.”

He indulged himself in just looking at his marvellous little girl who never ceased to cause a fuzzy, satisfied warmth to flow through him that only a “hand’s on” kind of dad could feel. But his smile faded as he glanced back at Tess.

His mouth firmed into a fine line as he noticed her expression was nothing short of...earth-shattering.

Well what in heaven’s name had Tess expected? A baby? Coming into town ten years after the child’s birth, of course their daughter was going to be all grown up. A young lady, as his mother had described Erin earlier. Had Tess anticipated meeting a toddler or something? Why did she look so astounded?

Tess’s brown eyes seemed to chum with storm clouds as she studied Erin. When she lifted her gaze to his, it was filled with silent, thunderous questions he found quite bewildering. Then her attention clamped once again on their daughter.

Finally she uttered a soft, breathy, “Oh, my,” turned on her heel and raced toward her car. In another moment, she was speeding away.

“Wow,” Erin said to him when the wheel-flung pebbles in the parking lot settled. “What was her problem?”

Dylan didn’t answer. Not because he meant to ignore his daughter’s query, but because he didn’t quite know what to say.

It wasn’t his fault that Tess Galloway was having trouble facing her daughter. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t cope with what she’d done in the past. And it wasn’t his fault she felt the need to once again flee from her responsibility.

However, his silence was more telling than he’d realized.

“You know her, don’t you, Dad?”

All he could do was look down into Erin’s chocolate-brown gaze.

“So, who is she?” Erin asked, already sensing the answer to her first question.

Heaving a weary sigh, Dylan debated what to say. How to answer: He could lie. Tell the child he had no idea who the crazy woman was. But Tess Galloway would probably be back. Of course, it was entirely possible that she’d run away again, just as she’d done before, and he and Erin would never see hide nor hair of her. But she certainly wouldn’t leave town before causing him as much trouble as she could. That was about how his luck ran. However, he refused to allow Tess to damage the trust he knew his daughter placed in him, so telling the child the truth and helping her deal with it was probably the best path to follow.

“That,” he said with a slow, measured reluctance,

“was your mother.”

The faint odor of cigarette smoke hanging in the still air was plain evidence that the hotel clerk had made a mistake in booking Tess’s room. She’d specified a smoke-free room. But the idea was so small it was meaningless when weighed against the gargantuan revelation that had her in complete and utter turmoil.

She paced the seven steps it took to reach the far wall, then turned and paced back to the door of the tiny bathroom.

Her baby daughter hadn’t died.

Her baby daughter hadn’t died.

Raking all ten fingers through her hair, Tess paused in front of the dressing mirror and stared at her reflection as she was lambasted with questions and ideas that seemed to fly at her like dive-bombing fighter planes.

How could this have happened? How could a woman give birth and...

She stopped the thought in midstream. She hadn’t been a woman. She’d been a girl. A teenager. Still how could any female, of any age, give birth to a baby and not know that her daughter lived? Such a thing was inconceivable...wasn’t it? Things like that didn’t really happen. Those kind of situations were only impossible, unbelievable fictionalized ideas thought up by movie-of-the-week scriptwriters.

Things like this simply didn’t happen to sane, rational, normal people like herself.

At the moment, though, Tess felt anything but sane and rational.

Erin.

Erin Minster.

Staring unblinkingly into the mirror, Tess saw an older version of the child’s face. Erin had her eyes. Erin had her nose. Her mouth. Her chin. Her hair.

There was no doubt in her mind that Erin was her baby.

Her daughter was alive!

And Tess had run from her the instant she’d made the connection. Her eyes rolled upward and she closed her lids. Why had she made such a dash for her car? Why hadn’t she simply stayed and talked things out with Dylan? Why hadn’t she introduced herself to her daughter?

She had no other excuse except to say that the discovery had been staggering. No, it had been mind-blowing. A literal bombshell that had devastated her thinking processes.

Alive. And well. And living with her father in Pine Meadow.

How could this be? How could this have happened?

Worrying the small pearl pendant that hung on the delicate gold chain around her neck, Tess resumed her pacing.

Had Dylan somehow kidnapped Erin from the hospital in Connecticut where Tess had given birth?

She knew that Dylan had been rebellious in his youth, but she’d never witnessed him break the law. Besides, the idea that he might have abducted their child simply didn’t make sense when she thought of the awful accusations he’d made when she’d come to him with the news of her pregnancy.

“You won’t trap me into marriage,” he’d railed at her.

His choice of hurtful words had clearly told her that he didn’t want her. That he didn’t want their baby. So she really couldn’t imagine him turning around and stealing their child from the hospital nursery.

Furthermore, even if Dylan had been the type of person who could do such a thing, with doctors and nurses milling around, she just didn’t think it would be easy to pull off. No matter what the movie-of-the-week scriptwriters might want TV watchers to believe.

But the Minsters were wealthy enough to pay off a doctor or nurse. The thought floated eerily into her mind, and she shivered.

People who chose to work in the medical profession did so to help people, not hurt them, she reminded herself. Yes, but, a tiny voice piped in, there was always someone who was desperate enough to act unethically. Especially if money was involved.

Suddenly Tess felt sick to her stomach to think the man she’d thought had been the love of her life would hurt her so terribly. Would rob her of her own flesh and blood.

He had been vicious when he broke up with you all those years ago, the tiny voice echoed in her head.

Yes, she remembered. He had been vicious.

She unwittingly nibbled the cuticle of one thumb. Why didn’t things seem to add up? she wondered. Why didn’t the pieces fit?

The scene at Dylan’s garage earlier today unfolded again in her mind. All afternoon she’d been replaying the bit where Erin had come into the picture. Her gorgeous little girl had stepped out of the driver’s seat as if she’d been born there. Tess couldn’t help but smile.

However, she forced herself to push the endearing image aside and focus on what had happened prior to Erin’s appearance. What had she said to Dylan? More importantly, what had he said to her?

“So, ” his words floated into her mind, “you’ve finally come to see how your little puppy dog has fared after all these years.” Her breath caught as his meaning cut her to the quick. Then, she remembered him saying, “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the little stray you so heartlessly sent back to me. The waif you thought was so useless you didn’t even give her a name before you got rid of her. ”

The realization was enough to make her knees buckle, and she sank onto the mattress, burying her face in her hands.

Dylan thought she hadn’t wanted Erin. He thought she’d heartlessly sent her newborn daughter away without even giving the child a name. He thought she hadn’t wanted to raise her own baby. He thought she’d known all along of her child’s whereabouts, but that she hadn’t even cared enough to call or visit or—

Tess groaned audibly. Dear Lord in heaven, Dylan had thought all these horrible things about her for the last ten years! She pressed trembling fingers against her mouth as one final, chilling question came to her.

What must her little girl think of her?

Without another thought, Tess grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

“The garage is closed.”

Tess spun around to see the same elderly lady with whom she’d talked before, the same one who had urged her, only a couple of hours ago, to stop in and visit Dylan.

“Yes, I see that,” Tess said, still wrestling with the disappointment she experienced over seeing the Closed sign hanging in the window of Dylan’s place of business. She’d had the thought of going to Minster House to look for him, but didn’t know if she had the nerve to do so. “The sign there says he opens at eight in the morning.”

She hated the thought of waiting all those hours before having the chance to talk to Dylan. And Erin.

A thrill shot through her body with a jolt when she realized all over again that her baby was alive. Really alive!

“Eight, sharp,” the woman said.

Defeat rounded Tess’s shoulders. “I guess I’ll come back tomorrow. Thanks for coming over to talk.”

“Aww, now—” the woman actually seemed embarrassed “—there’s no cause to go thanking me. Just trying to be neighborly. And seeing as how you sped out of here earlier like an arrow out of a bow, didn’t seem like you and Dylan had much chance to catch up on things.”

“No.” Now it was Tess’s turn to feel chagrined. “You’re right, we didn’t.” But she simply couldn’t bring herself to explain the situation.

What could she say? That she’d just discovered today that she has a daughter?

This woman would think she was a raving lunatic!

“Well, I’d better go find someplace to grab some dinner.” The last thing Tess wanted was food. But she needed a means to politely take her leave. She had a hotel room floor that needed pacing, hours that needed worrying through. She turned away and started toward her car.

“You know...”

Something in the woman’s tone made her jerk to a halt and spin around. The elderly lady’s mouth was curled into a soft smile.

“I know how you can contact Dylan,” she said. “If you’ve a mind to, that is.”

Tess’s silent, eager expression was answer enough to make the woman chuckle.

“You see, Dylan has his phone number listed there—” she pointed to a small, index-card-size note taped in a lower corner of the window “—just in case of an emergency. I had to call him once when a bunch of boys were hanging about in the parking lot here and getting up to no good.”

With her hopes soaring, Tess rushed to the window, scrambling in her purse for something to write with at the same time.

“Thank you,” she told the woman. “Thank you so much.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t do you any favors. His number is there in the window for all the world to see.”

Tess protested, “Yes, but—”

“Would you stop already,” the woman said, grinning. “And go make your call. There’s a telephone right there on the corner.”

“I will.” Tess stuffed the ink pen back into her purse and then began fishing for change as she headed for the phone booth.

Dylan answered on the third ring, the sound of his voice like a soft caress against Tess’s ear.

“Dylan,” she said, making every effort to speak smoothly, “it’s Tess.”

There were several seconds of dead silence.

Finally she heard him exhale in a short, puffy sort of sigh.

“I’ve got to admit,” he said quietly, “you’ve surprised me again. I thought I might hear from you, but . not quite so soon. How’d you get my home number?”

Not wanting to get the elderly lady who had helped her into hot water, Tess only told him half the truth. “From the emergency card you have posted in the front window at your auto repair shop.”

“Ah.”

The small sound was velvet soft over the phone line.

“And you thought this constituted an emergency.”

Tess listened hard, but detected no censure in his tone, and she was left believing that this was his way of filling what would have otherwise been an awkward silence.

“It is to me,” she told him. “We need to talk, Dylan.”

Again, he sighed, but this one was tinged with irritation.

“Look,” he said, “this isn’t a good time. I’m trying to get dinner. And thanks to my mother, Erin has a boatload of make-up work that needs to be done before school tomorrow. It isn’t a good time for you to be coming over here and disrupting Erin’s life—”

“I have no intention of disrupting anything,” Tess said, cutting in. It broke her heart to hear him talk of cooking dinner and helping with homework so mundanely when she’d never once had the opportunity to do such things for her daughter.

“Dylan...” The pleading in her voice was so thick, she had to stop.

All she wanted to do was make him understand. But if she were to simply blurt out the situation; that she’d been lied to, that she’d thought all these years that their baby was dead, that someone had committed a horrendous crime by stealing her child, he’d think she’d gone completely insane. She needed to see him face-to-face. She needed to tell him everything in a calm, rational manner. That was the only way to make him understand she was telling the truth.

Before she could speak, he said, “I want you to know that I won’t allow you to upset Erin. I don’t want you overwhelming her.”

“I understand,” she said. “I don’t want to overwhelm her, either.”

She’d never dream of causing her daughter one moment of worry or trouble.

“M-maybe,” she stumbled over her thoughts as they came at her, “it would be best if you and I met. Just to talk. To catch up.”

The third sigh he expelled was weary sounding.

“I told you, Tess. I’m in the middle of fixing dinner. And then there’s Erin’s schoolwork. I want to be here if she needs me.”

“Of course,” she quickly agreed. “But maybe after? There’s a coffee shop down the street from your garage. In the same building where my dad had his shop. We can talk there.”

“It’ll be at least two hours. And I don’t know if I can find a sitter.”

“I’ll wait,” she said in a rush.

She heard yet another exhalation.

“Please, Dylan. Please try.” She could think of nothing else to say except, “I’ll be waiting,” and then she gently hung up the phone.