Читать книгу The Daddy Dilemma - Karen Smith Rose - Страница 9

Chapter Three

As Nathan stared up at the ceiling of Sara’s spare room, with the subtle scent of lavender escaping from a dish on the dresser, he reminded himself again that staying here was the practical and convenient thing to do. After all, he’d be leaving first thing in the morning. What did it matter where he bedded down for the night?

It mattered.

When he’d accepted her invitation, she’d told him straight out that she wouldn’t bother him, that he could pretend he was staying at a hotel, that she had some work to do on her computer in her bedroom and he could make himself a sandwich, open the package of cookies on the counter, help himself to whatever he could find.

That’s what he’d done, and he’d turned in early.

Levering himself up in the double bed now, he switched on the bedside lamp. He felt so out of place here. This wasn’t a motel. The furniture wasn’t impersonal. Sara had told him this brass bed had been hers when she was a child. The blue-and-white-striped spread and coordinating curtains were obviously new. But the snow globe with the castle on the dresser, the photograph of Sara and her mother in the crystal frame on the nightstand, the faded latch-hook rug with butterflies and flowers next to the bed, were belongings Sara clearly cherished.

He realized he was trying to get to know this woman without actually getting to know her. Maybe he was just searching for signs or signals that would warn him if there were dangerous waters ahead. His eyes fell on the paperback thriller poking out of his duffel bag. But then his stomach grumbled. He might as well get something to eat and spend the next hour reading. Maybe then he could doze off.

Listening for a moment, he didn’t hear a sound in the apartment, and suspected Sara was already sound asleep.

He’d brought navy flannel sleeping shorts for his overnight stay. He hadn’t figured he’d need anything else, alone in a motel room. He could put on his jeans. Nah. He’d be in and out of the kitchen in a couple of minutes.

When he passed Sara’s room, he was relieved to see no light shone under the door. He switched on the hall light soundlessly, then went down the short corridor to the dining room. As he passed through it, he saw the hood light glowing over the stove in the kitchen. At the same moment, he realized Sara was standing at the sink, likely as startled to see him as he was to see her. She was wearing a fuchsia nightshirt with Peace embroidered across the front in sparkly letters. The sleeves went to her elbows, while the V-neck hinted at her cleavage.

He quickly pulled his gaze up to her face, but that wasn’t a whole lot better. Her blond hair was tousled. Her big green eyes were wide with surprise. Devoid of makeup, her flawless skin asked to be touched.

He stopped, not sure whether to proceed or retreat. Her gaze was glued to his bare chest for a moment, then dropped lower, to the elastic band on his shorts. His equilibrium went haywire.

Finally, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks a little flushed, she said, “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“And I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You need another pillow or comforter or—?”

“No, Sara. I’m just fine.” Then he said the first thing that came into his head. “My stomach was grumbling.”

Her hand fluttered toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself. There’s still plenty of sandwich fixings. I’m trying warm milk. Want some?”

He wrinkled his nose. “That idea never appealed to me.”

She laughed, and the sound awakened something in his heart, something shadowy that had been lost since Colleen had died.

“You have to add a little honey and a square of chocolate so that it becomes a magic sleeping potion,” she said.

He chuckled. “Magic is right.”

“Don’t turn up your nose if you haven’t tried it.”

There was something completely unpretentious about Sara that he couldn’t help but like. “I’ll pass for tonight.”

Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a package of ham, along with cheese, and grabbed the mustard and a head of lettuce. When he took the items to the counter, Sara passed him the loaf of bread. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra under the nightshirt. Why would she, to sleep?

Since that thought almost made him break into a sweat, he concentrated on making sandwiches. “Want one?” he asked as she stood there, silently stirring her milk.

“No, thanks. If I make a sandwich and sleep on it, I’ll be wearing a few extra pounds in the morning.”

Before he thought better of it, he muttered, “I doubt that.”

She looked surprised at his comment and her cheeks became a little pinker. Switching off the burner, she poured her milk concoction into a mug. “Do you want to eat alone or do you want company?”

Although he’d rather just take his sandwiches to his room and dive into the thriller—that was the safe thing to do—he thought a little conversation might be a good tactic before Sara actually moved into his house for a couple of days. The only problem was, that damn V-neckline distracted him.

“Company’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to sleep when we’re finished,” he decided.

When he took the plate of sandwiches to the table, she followed, and he had the feeling she was inspecting him as they walked. What a weird sensation that gave him. How long had it been since a woman checked him out? He supposed turnabout was fair play, but the idea was arousing. He quickly sat at the table.

After she set her mug at the place mat, she went back to the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice and snagged a glass from the cupboard.

“Thanks,” he murmured, wondering if her thoughtfulness was a part of who she was or a part she played whenever she had a guest. He wondered if she had guests often…especially men guests.

Seated around the corner from him, she crossed her legs under the table. Her toes brushed his ankle and a jolt of fire leaped up his leg.

She looked a bit embarrassed as she shifted to the far edge of her chair, putting more distance between them. “So is the article I read about you accurate?” she asked. “Were you a financial analyst once upon a time?”

“Yes, I was. I was with an investment banking firm. I was on the fast track to becoming a rich, powerful mover and shaker.”

He’d said it so tongue-in-cheek, she laughed. “You didn’t want all that?”

“Back then I wanted it…before I knew what was really important.”

Her eyes were wide again. “What did you find that was really important?”

“When I got married, I knew my marriage was important, but I think my job was still at the top of the list. I was headed up and nothing was going to stop me.”

She stirred her hot milk. “Kyle’s birth did?”

Obviously, she was tiptoeing around the death of Colleen and Kyle’s twin. Hesitating before he answered, he finally admitted, “Not Kyle’s birth. The attempts to have a child. Most couples take the whole process for granted…at least, I always did. I figured I’d get married someday, have kids, send them to college, retire and enjoy life. But Colleen and I hit a roadblock right out of the gate. She was thirty-two when we started trying to have kids, and we didn’t think there would be a problem. But after two years, she still wasn’t pregnant. We both had all kinds of testing done. At age thirty-four then, she had an elevated follicle stimulating hormone level. The specialist told us as she grew older and those levels rose, the likelihood of having genetically abnormal eggs also escalated. So we decided to try in vitro with an egg donor.”

He’d thought about this over and over…analyzed every step. “Going back over everything that happened, I wonder if we weren’t meant to be childless. The testing, the in vitro, was tough on our marriage. When Colleen stroked out during the delivery process, I felt as if we’d gone against fate or something.”

Gazing into Sara’s eyes, he saw that she understood, maybe because of the losses she’d suffered.

She reached out and touched his hand. “You can’t think that.”

The contact was like fire, and he jerked his hand away. He’d loved his wife, but here he was, talking about her and his marriage, yet feeling some sort of chemistry with this woman he didn’t even know.

He bet the chemistry would quit when he questioned her about the money she received for donating her eggs. Maybe she did it to subsidize her high-powered career.

“Why did you donate your eggs? Did you need the money for college?” He tried to keep his voice non-judgmental. She might tell him it was none of his business.

She looked down at her hands and for a moment he thought maybe she felt guilty about it. After all, she could have used the ten thousand on a new car.

But then Sarah lifted her gaze to his, and the emotion in her eyes told him something else was coming…something he never expected.

“My mom became ill. She needed a bone marrow transplant but that treatment was considered experimental with her condition. Her insurance company wouldn’t pay.”

“Ten thousand dollars wouldn’t be nearly enough for that!”

“No, it wasn’t. But our church began holding fund-raisers. It seemed everyone in town wanted to help. But even with that, we were short on the down payment. The money I received along with the rest enabled my mom to start treatment.”

He’d been wrong about Sara’s motives and so had Ben. Chances were good they’d wanted to think the worst of her. That would make the whole situation easier…easier to push her out of Kyle’s life. But the woman before him had been willing to sacrifice for her mother. And after all that, tragedy had struck again.

“Tell me about your accident,” he requested gently.

“Do you really want to know the details?”

No, he didn’t. But for some reason he felt it was essential he gathered all the facts about Sara Hobart. Maybe he could figure her out then and what she truly wanted.

“Does it bother you to talk about it?”

“No.” She amended her answer. “Yes. Just when I think I’ve put it behind me, I remember I can never have children and it’s all there again.”

“I read the account of it on the Internet,” he admitted.

“It’s so cut and dry in the newspaper, isn’t it? A driver under the influence of cold medication passed out, jumped the median strip and plowed into me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m lucky to be alive. Lucky I don’t remember the actual accident or the ambulance trip to the hospital. But I remember everything from surgery on. Most of all, when the doctor told me he had to perform a hysterectomy.”

Nathan knew how much he’d wanted to be a dad. What if he’d gone to bed one night and awakened in the morning to a stranger telling him he could never father a child. He could hardly imagine how devastated Sara must have been.

Sara rearranged herself in her chair, took a few swallows of her milk and then admitted, “When I donated my eggs in exchange for the money, I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I know the money was supposed to compensate me for my time, the physical distress to my body and all of that, but taking it bothered me. Still, it prolonged my mom’s life for five years. I had all these extra days and hours and minutes to spend with her. I’ll never regret that.”

“I think I hear a ‘but,’” Nathan replied gruffly.

“My career had always been my ambition, my vocation, my life. It gave me energy and purpose even throughout mom’s illness. Because of it, we could keep up with the bills and I could give mom what she needed. I could focus on a business that had somehow gotten into trouble—either with a lawsuit against it or red tape tangles—and escape for a time before I had to face the fact again that mom was slipping away. But…after my accident and the hysterectomy, like you, I tried to find meaning in everything that had happened, and I couldn’t. My career didn’t mean what it had before. It was all just too confusing to try to figure out. And I had to know if I had a child out there.”

Although he wanted to separate himself from Sara and her interference in his life, he could understand her reasoning and her longing. Nathan ate his sandwiches in silence. Once in a while, she sipped her milk, looked over at him, then glanced away.

He had the feeling they’d shared a little bit too much personal information too soon. He never talked to anyone about Colleen, what they’d gone through, what he’d felt after she and Mark had died. Why now? Why this woman?

Because she might be Kyle’s mother.

No matter how much he wanted to eradicate that fact, he kept bumping into it.

Finished eating, he stood and took his dish and glass over to the sink. Sara did the same. Unfortunately, they reached for the handle to the dishwasher at the same time. Their fingers tangled and this time neither of them pulled away. When Nathan gazed into her eyes, he felt a churning inside of him. It was uncomfortable, unwelcome and totally unsettling. He was standing bare chested and barefoot, with only sleeping shorts between him and her cotton nightshirt. The impulse to kiss her was so strong he had to close his eyes. He took a step back, and when he opened them again, he saw she had done the same thing. She was standing in the corner, both hands around her mug.

He opened the dishwasher, dropped in his plate and glass and waited for her to put her mug in.

“I have to rinse it,” she said softly.

When he lifted the door to close it, he didn’t step away fast enough. The next second she was there at the sink beside him, his body practically touching hers. She didn’t wear perfume, yet she did use a shampoo that smelled fruity. Standing this close, looking down at her, he found his gaze going to the V between her breasts under the nightshirt. He knew he should look away. He really should. But he hadn’t gazed at a woman in an intimate way in five long years. His desire and passion and need had been frozen. Now it all woke up and practically bowled him over.

Sara was biting her lower lip, and he was fighting for…what? Control? Composure? Propriety? He swallowed, mentally pouring freezing water over his libido, and turned away from her.

“I’ll be leaving for the airport around seven,” he called over his shoulder.

“Nathan?”

He stopped, and politeness made him face her again. “What?”

“Would you like me to make breakfast?”

“No. I’ll grab a bagel at the airport. Why don’t you just stay in bed.” It was more than a suggestion; it was practically an order.

Although he didn’t think she was the type of woman who took orders, she nodded. “That would probably be best.”

As she turned on the spigot, he strode quickly to his bedroom. He had a feeling he’d finish that novel tonight, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep.

Sara was transferring file folders from her desk to her briefcase when Ted Feeney knocked on her open door Monday evening. Whenever she saw Ted, her heart still hurt a little. Not because she wanted to date him again. She’d learned what kind of man he really was. But her heart hurt because of the dreams he’d represented…the ones she’d had to bury. They hadn’t talked for weeks, not since he’d admitted a woman who couldn’t have children didn’t fit into his life plan.

So why was he here now?

She forced a smile. After all, they worked for the same firm. “Hi, Ted.”

“I heard you’re taking time off again.” He was trying for a nonchalant tone, but she heard an edge of disapproval underneath.