Читать книгу A Father's Secret - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 8

Sam’s eyes lit upon the monitor she had clipped to her belt, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest. As if on cue, the machine squawked into life and Sam heard his child’s cry for the very first time. He blinked back the sudden moisture that burned at his eyes and swallowed against the lump in his throat, forcing himself to speak.

“Your baby?” he asked, his voice remarkably level despite his churning emotions.

“Yes, my son. He’s four months old, but you don’t need to worry that he’ll disturb you while you’re here. We live downstairs at the opposite end of the lodge and he’s now sleeping through the night, thank goodness.”

“It’s no problem.” He dredged up a smile. “Don’t hide him away on my account.” The noise through the monitor grew more demanding. “It sounds like you’re being summoned. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“Thanks,” Erin said, already heading for the door. “Remember to just ring for me when you’re ready for your meal. I’ll bring it straight through.”

Sam raised his hand in acknowledgment and watched as she rapidly left the room. He expelled a harsh breath and turned to face the window, staring wildly out onto the serene surface of the lake and waiting in vain for it to fill him with a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in far too long. It had been an entire year since his wife’s death. A year filled with pain, loss, grief and overwhelming guilt. He’d welcomed each one and borne it stoically. It was the least he could do, considering it was a stupid decision on his part that had taken Laura’s life.

He’d vowed he’d never enter into another relationship with anyone—ever. He’d even had a vasectomy to ensure that he couldn’t screw up another person’s life again. He owed Laura and her memory that much. Up until today, that hadn’t been a problem, but there was something about his hostess that pinged every single one of his male receptors. Knowing that Erin Connell had that effect on him angered and scared him in equal quotients. Not even with his beautiful wife had attraction been so raw, so intense, so instant.

So very, very wrong, especially since he was only at Lake Tahoe to do something she’d probably consider unforgivable. He’d come to find a way to claim her son.

Erin all but ran to the back stairs that would take her down to her living quarters. Wow, that guy was intense. Not to mention a whole lot younger and way more attractive than she’d counted on for her first guest since reopening. She unconsciously wiped her right hand against her hip, trying to assuage the tingle that had started with his handshake and spread through her whole body every time he’d looked at her.

She pattered down the stairs and let herself into her quarters, heading straight toward Riley’s nursery and the little hands that waved above the edge of his crib for her attention. Scooping her son up against her shoulder she automatically began to rock and make the soothing sounds she knew would settle him and tried not to wince as his strong fists closed in her hair.

“Hey, little man,” she crooned. “Did you have a nice nap? It wasn’t quite long enough, though, was it? Did you hear our new visitor arrive? Is that what it is? Are you afraid you’re missing out on something, hmm?”

Erin carried Riley through to his room and placed him on the changing table, whipping off his wet diaper and replacing it with a dexterity she’d once doubted she’d ever manage. As she did so, she kept up a running commentary.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to meet our Mr. Thornton. He’s a bit of a hottie, not that I was looking, mind you. Only one man in my life,” she said bending down to blow a raspberry on Riley’s little belly. “And that’s you!”

She lifted Riley back up again as his chortles of glee faded away, striving to keep her focus where it belonged—squarely on her son. But meeting Sam Thornton had completely shaken her equilibrium. He was nothing like his courteously friendly emails had implied. She’d expected someone older, someone…well, duller. Not sex on legs.

His dark blond hair was cropped short and there were lines on his forehead and bracketing the sides of his mouth that suggested laughter was not something that came frequently to him. But his slate-gray eyes had been mesmerizing. She’d felt as if he could look right through her, to her very soul, if he so desired. And then there was his touch.

She shivered and clutched Riley just a little too tightly in reaction, earning a squeak of protest from her son. No, she didn’t want to go there, even though it had been a very long time since anyone had made her feel like that. All woman, all the way.

Erin made her way through to the kitchen and propped Riley in the tabletop rocker that gave him a clear line of sight for whatever she was doing. She adjusted the small toy mobile that was attached to one side so he could grab and play with it if he got bored watching her. She hummed a tune while she laid a large butler’s tray with all the condiments she thought her guest would enjoy with the casserole of braised beef and red wine she’d prepared earlier in the day and that now stood warming in the oven.

She’d made enough that she could freeze a couple of single portions for future meals for herself. With creamy mashed potatoes and fresh green vegetables from the kitchen garden, it would be a hearty meal. Perhaps too hearty, given that it was still late summer and the evenings were still long and, so far, delightfully warm.

She gave a mental shrug. If he had any complaints he could bring them to the management, she thought with a smile—the management that began and ended with her. It was a daunting enough role at the best of times, but Erin loved Connell Lodge with a passion. Arriving here for an interview to join the—then—much larger household staff, she’d felt as if she’d found home for the very first time in her life. She had come here with nothing and had made a life, created a family and a sense of belonging.

Ten years later, that home was being challenged by some stranger’s assertion that Riley was not her husband’s son. Party A, whoever he was, had no idea what can of worms he’d upended.

Legal advice, that was what she needed. But legal advice came with a price tag that she wasn’t in a position to pay, and she wasn’t about to use the firm that had handled the Connell family affairs for over a hundred years. Not when they were the very people who’d see her and Riley removed from the property if this whole paternity business didn’t go away.

She shook her head. She’d been James’s wife in every meaning of the word. Riley was their son. Connell Lodge was Riley’s home for his lifetime. The archaic trust that held the property only allowed direct descendants of the original James Connell, who built the property back in the early 1900s, to live there. As James’s legal and biological son, Riley and she—as his mother—had every right to be there.

A chill of foreboding ran down her spine. But what if a mistake had been made?

God, she hated this whole situation and the horribly vulnerable position it had put her in. If she had to leave right now, all she and Riley would have were the clothes on their backs and the very small amount of money left in her bank account. She had no skills other than being darn good at keeping the lodge in order and providing for their guests, and while she could competently skipper the boat moored at the end of the private pier, their charter license had long since lapsed. James had been the great outdoorsman, not to mention a much sought-after fishing guide, while all she’d ever wanted was a home—and Connell Lodge was that home.

Losing the very roof over her head was not an option. Somehow, she had to get the proof she needed to make this all go away.

A name popped into her head. Janet Morin. She’d met Janet during childbirth classes and knew the other woman had planned to return part-time to her legal practice in South Lake Tahoe almost immediately after the birth of her daughter. Maybe she could help, or at least be able to advise Erin on the best route to take without costing a small fortune. She’d make enquiries in the next few days, sound the woman out. She certainly didn’t want a whiff of any of this getting to the trustees who handled Connell Lodge—at least, not before she knew exactly where she stood, however shaky that ground may be.

Riley chose that moment to bump his nose with the toy he’d been clutching in his fist and sent up an almighty wail of protest. She unbuckled him from the rocker and lifted him in her arms but he was determined to be inconsolable.

“Shh, Riley-bear, shh,” she murmured as she held him close and peppered his little face with kisses, but he wasn’t having any of it.

From experience she knew there was only one way to soothe him. With one eye on the old-fashioned board, decorated with bells that were connected to the main rooms, she settled in a kitchen chair, unbuttoned the top of her blouse and adjusted her clothing so he could nurse. Riley latched onto her with gusto, and Erin wiped his chubby little cheeks of the tears that had stained them.

“Oh, Riley, your timing is kind of off, sweetheart. Our guest is going to be down for his dinner soon and I don’t think he’ll be impressed with me bringing along his meal with you attached to me like this.”

“I’m happy to wait.”

The voice from the door made her start, popping Riley off her. She swiftly guided him back and arranged her blouse a little more modestly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, color flaring in her cheeks as she saw exactly where Sam Thornton’s eyes were locked. “I didn’t hear you ring for me.”

“I didn’t.” Sam limped the rest of the way into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table. “I went to the dining room, and while it’s a beautiful room, the idea of eating there alone didn’t really suit. Do you mind if I eat here, with you?”

Did she mind? Part of her yelled, “Hell, yes!” But there was an entreaty in his voice, a loneliness that struck her to her core. Did that explain the shadows in his eyes? The lines drawn on his handsome face?

“No, I don’t mind at all,” she said as smoothly as she could. “I’m sorry, about this. Riley’s a bit out of his usual routine for some reason. Maybe he’s heading for another growth spurt.”

“Riley? That’s his name?”

She must be hearing things. Was that wistfulness in Sam Thornton’s voice?

“Sure is,” she replied, swiftly covering up as Riley disengaged from her and turned to give a milky smile to the newcomer. “Riley James Connell, at your service.”

“May I hold him?”

Erin couldn’t quite disguise her shock. He wanted to hold Riley? In her experience, most men ran a mile from kids at this age, preferring them when they were older, toilet trained and at least partly able to conduct a conversation. “Most men” being her late husband, that is.

“Sure, I’ll just need to burp him first,” she said, fixing her clothing with one hand and propping Riley upright on her lap with the other.

“I can do that,” Sam said.

“You’ve done it before?” she asked in surprise.

“No, but how hard can it be?”

The man didn’t know what he was in for. “He still sometimes spits up a bit when he burps.”

“So put a towel on my shoulder,” Sam said nonchalantly. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”

Erin nodded and rose, getting a small towel from a kitchen drawer and giving it to him. He laid it over his shoulder and then held his hands out for Riley, who happily went into the arms of the stranger.

She was unable to tear her gaze from her baby in this man’s embrace. “He’ll be more comfortable if you hold him like so.” She guided one of Sam’s arms under Riley’s diapered bottom. “And if you rub his back with your other hand, holding him against you.”

Sam did as she suggested. It looked wrong, and yet right at the same time, and it reminded her that Riley had missed out on a lot of male contact with his father gone. But should he be getting that contact with Sam Thornton? She didn’t even know the man, yet somehow she instinctively felt she could trust him. When Riley belched, Sam’s face took on a look of pride that made her laugh out loud. You’d have thought it was Sam himself who’d created the hearty sound.

“Wow, the boy can burp,” he said, still gently rubbing the baby’s back.

“And that’s not all,” Erin said, a smile still wreathing her face. “You should see what he does at the other end.”

A look of horror passed over Sam’s features. “I can just imagine. Here, do you want him back?”

“No, I’ll finish getting our meal together. You can put him back in his rocker if you don’t want to keep holding him.”

“Is it safe?” Sam said, looking at the rocker.

“Sure, and it’s a huge help. Short of having him strapped to me during his waking hours, it’s a great way for him to be a bit independent of me and still see what I’m doing around the place.”

“It’s okay,” he said, “I’ll hold him until we’re ready to eat.”

Erin grabbed a second place setting and laid the kitchen table for the two of them. Even with Riley there, it felt strangely intimate to be laying the table for two. The last time she’d done this it had been several months ago, while James was still well enough to leave his bed and come to the kitchen. She pushed the memories aside. She didn’t want to go there right now. She had more than enough to think about.

Sam held the tiny body in his arms and fought to swallow past the lump in his throat. As hard as it was to believe, he could actually be holding his son. Every instinct in his body wanted to hold this child to him and protect him from the ravages of the world, but he had no right to do that until he knew for certain that Riley was his.

He watched Erin as she competently moved through the kitchen, transforming a bare table to a convivial setting with effortless ease. The aroma of the dish she’d removed from the oven to stand on a trivet on the table spoke volumes to her ability as a cook. Even now, his mouth was watering. It all seemed to come so easily to her and reminded him uncomfortably of how natural she’d been with Riley when he’d entered the kitchen, following the sounds of the baby’s cries.

Seeing the baby at her breast had brought home a whole new range of emotions. Erin offered sustenance to her son from her own body. It was perfectly natural, and yet he’d never even stopped to think about the baby’s level of dependence upon her as his mother. He wondered if Laura would have been the same—if she’d have nursed their child. They’d never even taken their discussions that far. Instead, their focus had just been on the business of getting pregnant. That focus had been consuming to the point of excluding almost everything else.

Guilt swamped him anew, making him feel disloyal to his late wife’s memory. It seemed like a betrayal to Laura to be here, to be holding this child who might be his but not theirs. To be watching Erin Connell and not Laura. If he’d only been on time to pick Laura up for their appointment instead of insisting on attending to just one more issue that had cropped up at the office. One more issue that he’d since been forced, by his injuries, to learn to delegate. But it was far too late now. Too late for Laura and too late for the child conceived for them at the fertility center.

Even surrogacy was out of the question. As far as he knew, their viable embryos had been destroyed in the clinic failure that had resulted when several anomalies had been discovered in their business practices. Anger licked at the edges of his mind. A wasted emotion now, he knew. But, according to clinic records, one of those mistakes could mean that this child in his arms had been conceived with his sperm.

“Everything okay?”

Erin’s voice broke through his reverie, jolting him free of the pain of the past and dragging him, all too willingly, into her company and the warmth and welcome of her kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m fine. That smells great.” He nodded in the direction of the table.

“You didn’t specify any dietary requirements, so I hope this will be okay.”

She ducked her head shyly, making him realize he’d been staring at her for far longer than was probably polite. Erin took Riley from him and settled the child in his rocker, where he played and gurgled happily while they sat at the table.

“This is incredible,” Sam said as he tasted the casserole she’d ladled generously onto his plate. “Where did you train?”

“Train?”

“To cook like this.” He lifted another piece of succulent and richly flavored beef to his mouth.

She initially said nothing, just watched as he ate. For some reason, having her watch him wasn’t uncomfortable, unless you counted the state of semi-arousal he’d been in from the moment he’d arrived here.

She averted her eyes from his face and focused instead on her plate. “I’m self-taught, pretty much. Connell Lodge had a cook here when I arrived, but she preferred plain food without much seasoning. I started to experiment with a few dishes, and when she retired soon after I got here James offered me the cook’s role full-time.”

“You were staff here?” That was something that hadn’t been in the dossier his private investigator had put together for him. Mind you, the man had barely had a week to gather information about her, and at Sam’s insistence was still on a quest for more.

“Initially, yes.” A bittersweet smile crossed her face. “I was a bit of a cliché, really—marrying the boss.”

A sharp pang of envy lanced through him. Sam pushed it away ruthlessly. He had no right to feel any envy for the relationship Erin had enjoyed with her husband. He himself had been very happily married—hadn’t even so much as looked at another woman in the years he and Laura had been together, and in the aftermath of her death, he’d sworn he never would again.

Erin continued. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“So, what brought you here in the first place?” He was keen to fill the gaps in what little he knew of her past.

“I applied for work—general house duties. It was heading into winter and one of their regulars had fallen and broken her leg, leaving them short staffed. I was staying at a hostel about half an hour from here and saw a notice in the local paper, so I hitched out and applied for the job.”

“And never left,” he commented. “What did you do before you came here?”

Her expression changed, the friendliness in her eyes disappearing as effectively as if he’d just stolen her most precious possession. And, he suddenly realized, wasn’t that what he was here to do, after all?

“Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that,” she answered evasively. “Nothing important.”

Clearly, she didn’t like to talk about her past. More, he had the instinctive sensation that she was hiding something there that she would rather not have brought into the open. That instinct was what had led him to be where he was today. It had driven him to the top of his field in software development because he was never satisfied with simple answers. It made him all the more determined to discover everything he could about her. This irrational attraction toward her aside, he found he needed to know whatever it was that Erin Connell was hiding. Any secret could be a weapon to get him his son.