Reunited (Tueday Temptations) (6 page)

The phone clattered on the ceramic tile kitchen floor.

“Kath?” Brett’s voice haunted her from the other room. “You all right in there?”

Brett! What timing this Michael had. But she had to speak to him. Had to find out if he were truly the little boy she had given away all those years ago.

She willed her throat to relax, her voice to steady. “I’m fine. I have to take this call. I’ll just be a minute.”

Her shaky hand retrieved the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said into the mouthpiece. “You took me by surprise.”

She walked from the kitchen past Brett, waving at him and mouthing “a patient,” stumbled into her bedroom, and shut the door behind her.

“All right, Mr. Patton.”

“Call me Michael.”

“Of course. Call me Kathryn.”

“I got your name from the agency. The records said that once I was eighteen, if I wanted to contact you, I could. I did a little research and found your married name. It was just a stroke of luck that you’re still living in the same city.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“January fourth.”

Right date.
Holy shit.
“All right.” Her stomach burned. Her son. Her beautiful, precious son.

Brett’s son.

Lord, she had to tell him.

If she wanted to start a relationship with him, she had to tell him anyway. A relationship built on a lie was no relationship at all. She’d hoped for a little more time. A little more to get used to the idea, to get him used to the idea…

“I know this is coming out of nowhere for you,” Michael said, “but I really do want to meet you. And I have a question to ask you.”

“What?”

“Well, the adoption papers don’t specify who my father was.”

“No.” She hadn’t written it down. Hadn’t wanted Brett to ever know. Had wanted him to play baseball, to have the life he deserved.

“You…do know who he was, right?”

“Yes. He was…is…a fine man.”

“Oh, good. I just didn’t want to be the product of a rape or anything.”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. I loved your father. I was just young, and he was…engaged to someone else.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I wish I could have kept you. I do, Michael. But I was eighteen, and I had a scholarship.”

“It’s okay. My mom and dad are great, and I have two sisters.”

“You have another sister. Maya, my daughter, is four.”

“Oh?”

“And…three other sisters. Your father, he has three daughters.”

“So you still keep in contact with him?”

“I, uh, recently renewed contact, yes.”

“I don’t want to push you, but can we meet? I’ve just always wondered what you look like. Where my nose comes from, things like that.”

“I, uh, suppose.” Her nerves skittered.

“And my father? Could I meet him?”

“Oh Lord.” She sighed. “Michael—”

“He doesn’t know about me, does he?”

“No. I’m so sorry. He just came back into my life.”

“Aren’t you going to tell him?”

“Yes. I just need to find the right time.”

“I understand. Until you find the right time, maybe you and I can meet.”

She smiled into the phone. “I’d like that. I truly would. You probably won’t believe this, but I’ve missed you all these years. A day has not gone by that I haven’t thought of you. I always hoped I’d made the right decision.”

“You did. I have a great life.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

She grabbed a pad of paper from her bureau. “I wish I could talk longer, but I need to go. I have company. Could you give me your number? I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

She hastily scribbled down the name and number on the pad. “I’m so glad to hear from you, Michael. You have no idea.”

“Good. I’m glad I didn’t disrupt your life.”

“Oh no. You couldn’t. I’m so happy you’ve had a good life and I do want to know you. I’ll call you. Or you can call me anytime, okay?”

“Thank you…Kathryn. I appreciate it.”

“Bye now.”

“Bye.”

Kathryn drew a deep breath.
Brett
.

Brett was in the other room and had no idea he had a son.

She’d never told him. Suddenly, she felt she’d made the wrong decision. Would he understand her reasoning? Or would he be angry?

Oh God, he’d be angry…

She wanted to be with him. Wanted to make love with him again. Wanted all the passion and excitement she’d given up twenty years ago. The passion and excitement she’d never felt with another man in all this time.

They still had a dinner date. Maybe she could tell him, in a public place, where he wouldn’t have a fit…

What if he hated her? She couldn’t bear the thought. What if he walked away? Forever? When she’d just found him again?

She clutched the phone in her hand as her eyes misted. She walked numbly out of the bedroom.

“You okay?” Brett came toward her. “You look a little off.”

She sniffed. “A patient. He’s okay though. It’s just hard sometimes.”

“I bet it is. You’re such a caring person. You must hurt when they hurt.”

If he only knew
. “Yes. It’s difficult. A doctor is supposed to keep a professional distance.”

“How can you? They’re people. People you get to know.”

“Yes they are.” She smiled. “You get it.”

“Of course, I get it. I get you, Kath. I always have.”

God yes, he always did get her.

“Ready for dinner?”

She nodded and grabbed her jacket. They drove holding hands, not talking, to a small Italian place that someone in the Falcone family owned. She joked with Brett about being related to half of Columbus. Seemed like all the central Ohio Italians were bound by blood in one way or another. But the Falcones were never a mafia family, Brett maintained, despite the rumors.

Kathryn remembered those rumors. Those rumors that had nearly cost Brett his life. And hers.

Twenty years earlier

She hadn’t laughed so much in ages. Turned out they both loved chocolate—the richer, thicker, and darker the better.

Kathryn followed Brett outside the door of the ice cream shop.

He turned and drew near and she gasped as he brushed his lips and tongue over the corner of her lips.

“A little chocolate,” he said, smiling.

Anyone could have seen them. The ice cream shop was a popular hangout. No one from school had been there today, true, but still. She couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing.

What would Michelle think?

Well, if Brett didn’t care what Michelle thought, why should she? She wouldn’t go out of her way to kiss him, but if he kissed her? Why fight it?

She wanted to kiss him. Had never imagined such an intimate feeling as his lips on hers. Couldn’t wait to start kissing him more. To kiss other men more. She’d be the kissing bandit!

“Let’s walk behind the mall, in the alley,” Brett said.

“Why?”

“So I can hold your hand, kiss you.”

“Why do you want to hold my hand and kiss me?” She had to know.

“Because I want to. It feels nice. Doesn’t it feel nice to you?”

“But Michelle—”

“Michelle’s not here.”

“You’re not breaking up with her, are you?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. We’re not married. I’m not being unfaithful.”

“I think you are. I think you and she have an understanding.”

“Maybe she has an understanding. I don’t.”

“She thinks she’s marrying you, remember?”

“I might. I might not. Right now, I don’t want to think about Michelle. I want to walk with you in the alley. I want to hold your hand. I want to put my arms around you and kiss you.”

“Wow.” Her word came out in a breathy rasp. The Italian Stallion a romantic?

He took her hand and tugged her along. “Come on.”

They walked behind the mini mall into the back alley that was deserted, and a little scary. But no fear seized her. Brett was big and strong and would protect her.

He held her hand, and then, when she least expected it, pushed her against the back of the store building and crushed his mouth to hers.

Her lips tingled, her heart raced. The kiss consumed her, became her. Nothing existed in the world except her and Brett and the mating of their mouths.

Until the stark chill of a blade slid against the warm flesh of her neck.

“Nice piece of ass, Falcone. Care to share?”

The voice slithered over Kathryn like snake venom. Two muscled thugs pulled Brett from her while the third pressed the cool steel into her flesh.

“What the hell do you guys want?” Brett demanded.

“The same as always, Falcone. You know what we’re after.”

“And I’ve told you before. You’ve got the wrong Falcone. I’m Julian Falcone’s son. You’re looking for Brad Falcone, Angelo Falcone’s son. No relation.”

“Bullshit.”

“No lie.”

He glanced at Kathryn. She swallowed audibly.

“At least let her go.”

“Not a chance.”

“She’s a Zurakowsky. No relation to the Family, honest.”

Kathryn closed her eyes and prayed. What a time for him to bring up her Polish name. But if it worked, so help her, she’d give thanks the rest of her days for being the brunt of Pollock jokes.

“We have a message for your old man,” the man holding the knife to Kathryn said.

“His old man is home in bed,” she said, shaking. “He’s a construction worker, for God’s sake. A construction worker on disability.”

One of them punched Brett in the stomach. He doubled over with an
oof
.

Kathryn cringed but held still, ever aware of the blade still scraping against her neck.

“Let her go, man,” Brett huffed. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Kathryn said through clenched teeth.

“It’s not worth it, Kath.” His voice was raspy, breathless.

“I’m not leaving you!” The exclamation stretched her vocal cords and the blade pressed farther into her skin.

“You harm a hair on her head and I’ll see all of you dead,” Brett seethed.

Kathryn’s heart pounded, her stomach churned. Yet a little bit of joy surged through her at Brett’s protection.

“You give your old man our message, Falcone.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him. But I swear to God you’ve got the wrong man.”

“Give him this.” The thug to Brett’s right clocked him in the jaw. Not a pop, like she’d heard in movies. The punch hit Brett’s face with a dull thud.

The thud rang in Kathryn’s head.

“Next time, we hurt the girl,” he said.

The two let Brett go and he fell into a heap. The other pressed the blade into Kathryn’s skin once more, then removed it and fled. Kathryn rushed to Brett and knelt beside him.

“My God. Are you all right?”

“I’ll live,” he said breathlessly.

“Can you get up? Come on, I’ll help you.”

“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time those bozos have mistaken me for the wrong Falcone.”

“What can you expect from morons?” Kathryn helped him stand. “Come on. We’ll go to my house and get you cleaned up. My parents are out for the day and won’t be home until after ten.”

“You don’t have to, Kath.” Then he turned, his eyes wide. “Are you okay?” He reached toward her, trailed one finger along the burning flesh of her neck. “If they hurt you, so help me, I’ll—”

“Do what? Take down three giants yourself? I don’t think so. I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me. You’re hurt. And I’m going to take care of you. Come on.”

“Did you ever regret not having a son?” Kathryn asked Brett as she tore another piece of Italian bread from the loaf.

“Only a little,” he said. “I mean, sure, part of me always wanted a chip off the old block.” He smiled. “But I love my girls. They’re everything to me.”

Yet his voice held a whisper of regret.

“But still…” she urged.

“Yeah, I would have liked to have a son.”

You have a son. His name is Michael and he wants to meet us.
Her heart thumped. How could she tell him without him hating her for keeping it from him?

“How about you? Did you want a boy?”

“No, no. I was thirty-four when I had Maya. I was pretty sure she’d be my one and only. I didn’t care whether she was male or female, as long as she was healthy.”

“She’s a beautiful little girl, Kath. She looks just like you.”

“Thank you.” The warmth of a blush raged up her neck. “She does favor me, though she has Danny’s eyes. He has those gorgeous icy blue eyes. I’m glad Maya got them. They’re so noticeable.”

“I like your warm brown ones, Kath,” Brett said, smiling. “Though Maya is beautiful. I don’t mean to say she’s not.”

“I know.” Kathryn smiled. “Tell me, do your other girls look like Zoe? In other words, like mini Bretts?”

He laughed. “Candy does. Evie favors Michelle more. Still dark hair and eyes, like me, but her facial features are softer, a little curvier, like Michelle.”

“I’d love to meet them.”

“Okay. We’ll plan on it sometime. Does that mean…” His words trailed off.

“Mean what?”

“That you want to…be with me? I mean, I hope you do. It’s what I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be honest.”

Her insides melted and she nodded. “But we don’t know each other very well, Brett. We never did, really.”

“We knew each other in the biblical sense.” He smirked.

She couldn’t help but return his roguish grin. “Evidently, we still do. But really. It’s been twenty years. There’s so much about each other that we don’t now. That we need to learn.”

“We’ll have fun learning.” He reached across the table and took her hand, massaging her palm gently with his thumb. “I want to know everything about you, Kath. Every single thing. I want to know what kind of dressing you like on your salad. What you like to watch on TV. What kind of books you like to read. What makes you laugh, smile, cry. Everything.”

“Oh Brett, that’s lovely.” Her eyes misted. There was so much he didn’t know. So much he needed to know. She opened her mouth to tell him, but lost her nerve.

“I mean it. Every word. I shouldn’t have married Michelle, Kath, when I loved you. I should have chased you down. Found you. Convinced you I could give you what you needed.”

She shook her head. “Brett, we were different people then, with different needs. You deserved the chance to play baseball.”

“I know. I guess I couldn’t compete with Stanford.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just that.”
God no, it wasn’t just that. If he only knew…
“You and Michelle had a history. And you had a baseball scholarship.”

“That only lasted a year.”

“I know. I’m sorry you had to quit school and work.”

“It wasn’t just that.” He looked down.

“What is it?”

“I injured my knee. Had a few surgeries. I’m fine. I mean, I get around fine, no limp. But it ended my baseball career.”

“Oh, Brett, I’m so sorry.”

Her heart sank. All this time she felt she’d done the right thing, keeping their child a secret. She’d wanted him to have the chance to play baseball. She’d wanted him to have the chances for so many things…the chances he deserved. Now, to find out baseball never would have been possible…Shivers raced up the ladder of her spine. Had she made the wrong decision? Would he have wanted the baby? Would he have wanted
her?

“It’s okay. I enjoyed school, but I never would have done as well without you there to help me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You never needed me, Brett. I shouldn’t tell you this, but Mr. Phillips, the counselor, remember him? He confided in me when he was trying to get me to tutor you that you had scored in the superior range on the state tests.”

“Superior? What’s that mean exactly?”

“It’s one ranking below genius level.”

“I suppose you scored at the genius level?”

“Yes, but just barely. There isn’t that much difference between where you and I scored.”

“Really?” Happiness glowed on his face. His brows lifted. “I wonder why no one ever told me?”

“I told you. I told you how smart you were.”

“Yeah. But I thought you were just being nice. You know, being a good tutor.”

“I’m not that nice a person.”

“Sure you are. You were always nice. I remember that day you took care of me when those guys attacked me. I don’t think anyone’s ever taken such great care of me since.”

She shuddered.
That day
. That fateful day that had led to their son.

Twenty years earlier

Brett jerked as Kathryn touched the warm washcloth to his cheek.

“I’m sorry. I have to clean it before I can help you.”

They sat together on the sofa in Kathryn’s living room.

“It’s okay. Just stings a little.”

“I know. Again, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Kath. I’m sorry you had to witness that. Sorry you had to be in the middle of it. All I wanted to do was protect you.”

“You did.”

“Hell no, I didn’t.”

“Well, you couldn’t do much when there were two gorillas holding you, could you? It doesn’t matter. We’re both okay and out of danger.”

“You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

“So they got the wrong guy. I know there’s mob around here. Everyone knows, Brett.”

“At least you don’t have a mob name.”

“Nope. I’ve got a Pollock name.”

Brett reddened. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry that I’m Polish? I’m not.”

“No. Geez. I mean sorry I used to call you a Pollock.”

“Everyone did. Polish jokes were the rage, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. Better a Zurakowsky than a Falcone. The mob’ll never mistake you for someone they’re after.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I actually had that same thought today, during the whole thing. Never have I been so thankful for my Polish roots.”

He laughed with her. “Ow, that hurts!”

“Then stop laughing.” She smiled as she cleansed the rest of the dried blood from his cheek. “Now I just need some anti-bacterial ointment or something. There isn’t much blood. But you’re going to swell up, I bet.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

“You mean they’ve come after you before?”

“Not those three, but others. It’s never the same ones twice. They find out they made a mistake, and then they leave me alone.”

“Who are they after?”

“Brad Falcone. He’s a junior at Bishop Academy. His dad is an attorney with lots of mob ties.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that, so she made small talk. “I guess Brad sounds a lot like Brett.”

“Especially when you have the IQ of a tomato.”

Kathryn laughed. “See, you are intelligent, Brett. You can recognize when someone is stupid.”

“I don’t need to be intelligent to recognize a retard, Kath.”

“I suppose not. But you are smart. I’m still amazed that you figured out the whole negative times negative equals positive thing.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yeah. Positive.”

Stupid joke between them, but it made her warm. She and Brett had a private joke.

Silly, but nice. Nice and warm and fuzzy.

Geez, Kathryn, you’re getting all fluffy and perfumey, like Michelle Bates. Can’t have that.
Kathryn was not the frou-frou cheerleader type that Brett Falcone liked. She never would be.

Yet, he seemed to like her. He liked kissing her and he was leaning toward her now.

“Just a minute.” She backed away. “I’m not done with you, yet.” She squeezed some anti-bacterial ointment onto her fingers and rubbed it gently over his cheek.

He winced.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“I know.”

When she finished, she went to the kitchen and scooped Belgian chocolate ice cream into two bowls, then returned and gave one to Brett.

“Here. You look hungry.”

He laughed. “Shit, that hurt. I am, actually.” He took a bite of ice cream and winced. “Hurts to open my mouth, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She scooped some ice cream into her spoon, but on its way to her mouth, the cold custard glopped onto her neck.
Nice. Be a clutz in front of the Italian Stallion
. Could this day get any better?

Before she could grab a tissue from the box on the end table, Brett leaned forward and licked the ice cream off her warm skin. Tingles shot through her. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

Chocolate dreams…His tongue found hers and danced around it. His mouth hurt, she knew, but it didn’t seem to faze him. The kiss was raw and pure. Raw emotion and pure need. Pure love.

At eighteen, could she really be in love? With the Italian Stallion?

When his lips trailed kisses down her neck, licking up the last of the ice cream, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Yes, I love him.
She loved Brett Falcone.

Her hand shaking, she reached toward the crotch of his jeans and touched the bulge underneath. It pulsed against her fingers.

He moaned. “Kath, are you sure?”

“Yes, Brett,” she said, her voice a raspy sigh, “I’m sure.”