Heart of a Hero: The Soldier's Seduction / The Heart of a Mercenary / Straight Through the Heart. Lyn Stone
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All the boys I knew had the hots for Melanie.”
“Not all.” He said it quietly, but the instant he spoke, the atmosphere changed. Electric awareness sparked and crackled as her gaze flew to his.
But she looked away again immediately. “You, too,” she said, and in her face he saw her determination to keep things light between them. “When she and I were seniors, she chased you until you caught her, remember?”
He smiled wryly. “I remember. Are you going to hold it against me forever? I was a teenage boy. And God knows boys that age are helpless against an attractive female who’s as determined as Melanie was.”
To his surprise, she chuckled. “She was determined, too. All she talked about that summer was you. What to wear so that you noticed her, where to stand so that she just happened to be where you were headed. You told her once that she looked good in pink so we shopped for pink for the next three months. Have you ever tried to find a good shade of pink for a redhead to wear?” She shook her head, still smiling. “You didn’t stand a chance.”
He didn’t stand a chance now, either. Did she know how desirable she looked? Her eyes were soft and faraway, her body relaxed where she’d angled herself toward him. Her lips looked so soft and inviting as they curved with happy memories….
They were soft and inviting. His entire body revved for action as the memory of the afternoon’s kiss leaped into the forefront of his mind again. All he’d wanted to do was sink into her sweetness, live the dream he’d kept in his head during terrifying moments of hiding when he’d been sure he would be discovered any minute. Make love to her for real, not just in his imagination while he lay in an American military hospital in Germany. He’d wanted her so badly he’d nearly forgotten the child playing on the floor mere feet away.
And when he’d remembered, it had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to look away and focus his attention on his daughter.
“Is it really that bad an idea?”
Her unusually timid tone dragged him out of his introspection. “What?”
She was regarding him with thinly veiled curiosity. “A penny for those thoughts. I said you’re welcome to invite your father to visit for a few weeks if you like. He might enjoy the chance to get to know Bridget.”
“What?” he asked again.
“I said—”
“I know what you said! I guess I’m just…surprised at the offer. Are you sure you want my father underfoot?”
She smiled. “I always liked your father. Unless he becomes a werewolf at the full moon, or has some really weird habits I don’t know about, it would be fine with me.”
“Or we could take Bridget to California to visit him. He’s not a young man anymore, and he’s never been on a plane in his life.”
A fleeting expression crossed her face so quickly he wasn’t even sure if he’d seen it or imagined it. Had it been panic? Dismay? “You could fly home and then come back with him,” she said. “You know, so he wouldn’t have to fly alone.”
“I could.” He spoke slowly, watching as she twisted her slender fingers together in a sure sign of nerves. But what the hell was it that was making her so uptight? “Don’t you want to come home? See the old neighborhood? You could manage one long weekend, couldn’t you?”
Her fingers were practically tied in knots. “I…I guess so.” Although, she sounded so reluctant he nearly let it drop. But his curiosity was aroused. She didn’t seem to care if she ever went back. Why not? She’d grown up there; her family was buried there. “We can visit Melanie’s and your mom’s graves, and I can show you where my mother’s buried.”
“All right.” Her voice was quiet. “Let me check the calendar and see when we could go.”
Had she really agreed to go back to California with Wade? Phoebe wanted to slap herself silly. He’d been in her life again for just two days and already he was turning her world upside down. She should boot him out.
But she knew she never would. Keeping Bridget’s existence a secret had been more than a mistake, it had practically been criminal. And she deserved his anger. She’d really been like that overused cliché—an ostrich with its head in the sand. But at the time, it had been so much easier simply to cut her ties with her old life.
If only she had told his parents about Bridget when she first realized she was pregnant. Or…even after she’d thought he was dead.
But other people would have found out eventually. She could hear them now.
Just like her mother.
At least she knows who the father is. She and her poor sister didn’t even have that.
Oh, yes. She knew how small towns could be. At least, the small town where she had grown up. Vicious gossips. Not everyone, of course. She’d known many sweet, wonderful people in her hometown. But she’d known more than she liked of the kind who didn’t want to let their daughters come over to play with Phoebe and Melanie.
As if illegitimacy was catching.
If she was thankful for anything, it was for the fact that the world had changed since her own childhood. There were families of every kind out there today, and a child without a father wasn’t treated any different than a child with two mothers, or a child who shuttled back and forth between her mother’s and father’s homes in the middle of the week.
She sighed as she looked at her calendar. She had two days off in October, and if she took off another day, they could go to California for a long weekend and make it back without being so pressed for time that it wasn’t even worth the flight. She wasn’t sure her courage was up to the task of introducing Wade’s father to a grandchild he didn’t even know existed, but she could tell that Wade wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Angie is just one street over if you need her,” Phoebe told him for at least the tenth time on Monday morning.
“We’ll be fine,” Wade said. Again. “I’ll call Angie if I need anything. And if anything happens, I’ll call you immediately.”
“All right. I guess I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Bye.” He held the door open for her. “Don’t worry.”
She stopped on the verge of descending the porch steps and looked back at him, a wry expression on her face. “I’m a mother. It’s in the job description.” Then she heaved a sigh and headed for the car as he closed the front door.
It had taken some fast talking on his part, but yesterday she’d agreed to let him keep Bridget this week without anyone stopping by to check on him. And even better, she’d informed him that she’d worked out her schedule so that they could go to see his dad in just a few weeks. She had to clear it with the principal of her building, but she hadn’t anticipated any trouble. So he’d make the plane reservations as soon as she came home and gave him a green light tonight.
His dad. How in hell was he going to explain this to his father? From the time he’d entered adolescence and his dad had sat him down for their first big “talk,” the watchwords of the day had been responsible behavior and protection. Not to mention morality.
He’d never mentioned his feelings for Phoebe to his parents, never really had the chance, given what had happened with Melanie’s death. And then, after the funeral, after things had gotten so wildly out of control, he hadn’t had the chance. He’d had to leave the next morning. And Phoebe hadn’t answered her phone, although he’d tried half the night to contact her.
He could have simply walked down the street and banged on her door. Should have, he amended. But he’d known she was grieving, and he’d felt he had to respect that. And he’d felt guilty, taking advantage of her trust when she’d been so vulnerable. He