Secrets of Paternity (8 page)

“Not his first name.”

“James,” he said, extending a hand. “Jamey, if you prefer.” He realized that Caryn never called him by his first name and wondered about it.

“You used to date?” Venus asked.

“We go way back,” Caryn said, her smile wry. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

“I'm fine,” he said, sitting on her tan-colored sofa. He wasn't sure what to say in front of Venus, who sat at the other end of the sofa and tucked her legs under her. Both women had changed from their uniforms. Caryn into jeans and a sweatshirt amazingly free of anyone's logo, and Venus into jeans and a soft pink sweater that made her look like cotton candy.

“I'm home!” Kevin called out, cutting through the ten
sion in the room. James could almost hear a collective sigh of relief.

Footsteps bounded up the stairs, then the boy appeared. Three entirely different expressions crossed his face when he spotted each person in the room. His mother hadn't taken a seat yet, so he saw her first and grinned. Then he saw Venus and took a step toward her, then he came to an abrupt stop when he realized James sat on the same sofa.

If it hadn't been so awkward, it would've been funny.

Almost as one, everyone looked to Caryn.

T
he silence felt like a vise crushing Caryn. What had she been thinking, letting James in while Venus was there?
No one
could talk freely. Caryn wanted to talk to Kevin. Kevin would rather talk to Venus. Venus looked like she had questions for James. And James seemed to want to talk to everyone—and no one. Plus there was something different about him. She couldn't put her finger on it.

Kevin took charge. “You wanna come downstairs for a while? Listen to some tunes?” he asked Venus.

“Sure.” She looked thrilled, in fact, to leave Caryn's apartment.

Caryn didn't blame her. She wanted to know how things went with James's mother, though. “Everything work out okay?” she asked her son.

His gaze shifted to James then back. “Great. Really great. I'll tell you later.”

“Before you go, Kevin,” James said, standing. He pulled a business card from the pocket of his shirt, the same plaid shirt he'd worn at lunch…with that woman…who wore the diamond engagement ring.

Caryn had temporarily forgotten that detail.

He passed the card to Kevin. “Your mom said you were looking for work. This guy's a friend of mine. He'll be around until ten o'clock tonight, if you're interested.”

Kevin read the card. His eyes went wide. “Can I go right now?” he asked.

“You might want to change into something appropriate for a job interview,” James said.

“A suit?”

James smiled. “No. A clean and ironed shirt would be good, though. And a less ratty pair of jeans.”

“What's the job?” Caryn asked, feeling like a fifth wheel. She'd known James would take over. Known it without a doubt. He had that kind of pushy personality.

Kevin showed her the card. “A shooting range. How'd you know that's something I like?” he asked James.

“Thank your mom. She told me.”

Kevin hugged her, then he hurried out of the room, Venus on his heels. She'd been silent during the entire exchange. Caryn wondered what she thought—that they were all crazy?

The downstairs door banged shut, followed by Kevin's door. They could hear his voice filtering through the floor, the words indistinct but the tone overrun with excitement.

“Thank you,” she said to James. “I haven't seen him that happy in— Well, you know how long.”

“It's up to him now.”

“You're not paying your friend to hire him, are you?”

He smiled slowly, an utterly sexy, irresistible— No. Totally resistible. He apparently had a fiancée. Caryn had watched them laugh and talk, their heads close, then they'd hugged in the parking lot. She'd seen it and tried to ignore the twinges it brought.

“Wouldn't have occurred to me to subsidize him,” James said. “It's hard to get a first job. All I did was provide a possibility. Caryn—” he moved a little closer “—I really am sorry you had trouble at work because of me. If Cassie hadn't set me straight, I would still be ignorant of what I'd done. You should've said something.”

“Cassie?”

“The woman I wanted you to meet. We work together.”

Did that mean they weren't a couple? They'd hugged. Male and female coworkers didn't usually hug. “She's very attractive,” Caryn ventured.

“She's scary.”

“What do you mean?”

“A highly competent investigator, and almost fearless. But not reckless, which is a good thing. She got engaged about a month ago. I wonder how long she'll stay in the business. She loves kids. I figure she'll get pregnant on her wedding night—or make a valiant effort, as much as she wants a kid of her own.”

Caryn's relief took a nosedive, rooting her in place. She hadn't let herself acknowledge precisely how attracted she was to James until that moment—that moment when she thought he belonged to someone else.

Although he still might belong to someone else, for all she knew.

“You didn't,” James said, then hesitated. “You didn't think Cass and I were a couple, did you?”

“Of course not.” She turned away and headed for the kitchen without knowing why, except that she didn't want him to see the truth on her face.

“You did,” he said, following her. “I invited you to have dinner with me, Mysterious. And I didn't know you were Kevin's mother then, either. I was attracted—to you, the woman.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” He put his hands on her shoulder and turned her toward him. His gaze held hers captive. “I figure trust is a real issue with you, and I understand that. But believe me when I say if I'd been involved with any woman, I wouldn't have asked you out.”

She had two choices, believe him or not. With him so close to her she realized what was different about him. His beard was gone. “You shaved,” she said, touching his cheek without thinking. He was an incredibly handsome man….

He'd gone perfectly still and the world went silent. She saw nothing but his face, felt nothing but his closely shaven skin against her fingertips, heard his breath getting raggedy, breathed a scent she couldn't name—something all him, she supposed. Now if she could just taste…

He lowered his head, captured her lips in a kiss so sweet it was painful. Her eyes stung, her body ached. He didn't put his arms around her, though, or deepen the kiss but lingered gently, carefully, as if afraid she would break, then he pulled back and pressed his cheek to her hair.

“This is a really bad idea,” he whispered against her temple.

“I know.” But it had been so long since she'd been touched, so long since she'd been held and comforted. She'd handled everything alone. Selling the house, buying
a new one, moving. Never mind the gangsters. “Would you hold me, please?”

His arms slipped around her. She tucked her face against his neck and savored him. Her ice-cold bones began to thaw. A sob rose. She tried to make a sound to cover it, tried to pull away. His hold tightened, not painfully but insistently.

“Don't be afraid,” he said.

She wasn't, but how could she tell him that? He just felt good. Strong. Protective. “I'm sorry,” she said, embarrassed. “I'm so sorry.”

“Shh. It's okay.” He stroked her hair.

“I've just been…”

“Alone. I know.”

After a minute she eased back. “Thank you,” she said, turning away and going to the refrigerator, giving herself something to do. “I'm going to have some iced tea. How about you?”

“That'd be fine, thanks.” He sat at the kitchen table. When she joined him with the drinks he said, “I checked on Paul's motorcycle. It was taken to a recycling yard months ago. The tow yard said you signed a release to the insurance company.”

“I signed a lot of papers in those days. I don't remember one document from the rest.”

“I can take a trip down there, see if I can track it down.”

“Only if you think it will help. I assume it had been examined thoroughly.”

He took a sip of his tea, then set down the glass carefully. She figured he had something important to say but was hesitant to say it. He looked different clean shaven. She'd kind of liked the bad-boy scruffiness after she'd gotten used to it. He looked…
nicer
now. Not as risky. It should've
quieted her adrenaline, but no such luck. If anything, a lot of excess hormones were pole-vaulting inside her.

“Did Kevin find anything in Paul's paperwork?” he asked.

“I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet.”

The front door opened, and Kevin raced up the stairs. “Mom?”

“In the kitchen,” Caryn called out, grateful he hadn't caught them kissing. She didn't know how she could possibly explain that.

He shot into the kitchen. “Do I look okay?” He ran his hands down his long-sleeved, navy-blue dress shirt, patted his yellow and blue tie. His gaze flicked from Caryn to James, who nodded.

“You look nice,” she said. “You'll need names and addresses and phone numbers for references.”

“Like who?”

“Adults who would sing your praises,” James said.

“It isn't enough that you recommended me?”

“You'll have to fill out an application like everyone else. It's one of the questions.”

“I'll write down some names for you,” Caryn said, standing. She realized she would be leaving them alone. She didn't want them to talk about James's mother—or anything else—without her. “Where's Venus?”

“Downstairs. I'm going to drop her at her house on my way.”

“Good.” She left the room, tracked down her address book then hurried back. She needn't have worried. They didn't seem to have spoken while she was gone. She wondered why, though.

“Tell me about your—James's mother,” she said as she grabbed a pen and paper.

His eyes lit up. “She's cool. Did you know she sailed from San Francisco to Australia?” he said to James. “Just her and your dad.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” He smiled. “It was the first year of their marriage. She was a few months pregnant with me at the end of it. They never stopped going on adventures, either. I've never been on the jungle ride at Disneyland, but I've been down the Amazon. And on safari, twice.”

“Wow.”

“I didn't really appreciate all they showed me until I was old enough to realize not everyone took those kinds of vacations.”

“Your dad was a cop.”

“Yeah. A good one.”

Caryn heard pride in his voice.

Kevin leaned against the counter, relaxing. “Your mom showed me pictures.” He nodded a little, as if to himself, as if coming to a decision. “I'm gonna go back another time when I don't have to be somewhere else.”

“If you get this job,” Caryn said, “you probably won't have much free time.”

“I'll manage.” He'd gone rigid. His tone was defensive.

“It was just a comment, Kevin.”

“Whether you like it or not, Mom, I'm an adult. I can figure things out by myself now.”

The silence that followed was one step short of torture. She finished writing down names and contact information and passed the sheet to her son. “Good luck,” she said as cheerfully as possible.

“Thanks.” He left without saying goodbye, which probably meant he was embarrassed by his own behavior.

“I'm sorry,” she said to James, then picked up her glass, giving herself something to do. “I never know how he's going to react to anything these days. Pretty unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable, huh?” He grinned, but she didn't know why. “Eighteen's a tough age. You want to break free from your parents, but you aren't necessarily ready to handle everything on your own yet.”

“I admit I've had a hard time letting him go.”

“Understandable, given your own loss. He seems like a good kid, though, with a good head on his shoulders.”

“I hope so.” She spun her glass on the table, then dragged her finger through the water beading up on the Formica surface. What now? Did he want to leave? Stay? Have dinner? Talk?

She tested the waters. “Would you like to see pictures of him growing up?”

A few beats passed. “Yes, I would. Thank you.”

The emotion in his voice startled her. She hadn't tried to examine how he felt about everything—Kevin. Her. He'd known all these years that he had a child, of course, but had he wondered about him as a father might? She'd read articles written by other sperm donors. Some felt an attachment, a wish they could see the child, but most said they divorced themselves from the actuality of another human being, genetically theirs. They had helped someone who would've otherwise not been able to have a child. That was it. Like a civic duty.

She wanted to ask James where he stood, how he felt, but she wasn't sure she was ready for his answer. If he wanted to take Paul's place—

“Caryn?”

She lifted her head. “Hmm?”

“Pictures?”

She went to get her photo albums, then they spent the next hour poring over them. She shared stories of Kevin she'd forgotten but was reminded by the snapshot images. By default James also got a glimpse into her marriage and their family life—and so did she.

If anyone had asked her at any point during the past twenty years if her marriage was happy, she would've said yes. Certainly they had problems, like any other couple, but they'd worked through them. No marriage is perfect all the time.

But looking at the photographs gave her a different perspective. As time went by, she and Paul stood farther and farther apart, instead of arms wrapped around each other, as they had in the first few years. Again, normal, she supposed, for a settled-in relationship. There were fewer pictures as time went by, too. Also normal.

In the first ten years or so they'd worked hard, never having time or energy to be tired of each other or argumentative. They focused on surviving. Yearly his worth went up in the stuntman community. He made more money, enough for her to stay home with Kevin at what seemed like a critical time—prepuberty. She missed the company of neighbors in the isolated area where they lived. She no longer had coworkers, or praise for a job well done, or raises. Paul gave her a household allowance. Other than that, she knew nothing about their finances.

As she'd gotten to the album of Kevin's high school years, she saw changes in Paul that she hadn't seen in person. He'd lost weight. He looked gaunt. Worried? Scared? Had the gambling started that long ago?

“Caryn?” James asked.

She'd been staring at one of the last pictures she'd taken of her husband.
What a waste, Paul. What a total waste.

“I'd like to take you out to dinner,” James said, breaking into her consciousness.

She turned to look at him, this man who'd been a part of her life without being a part of her life for so many years. His strength was evident—physically and mentally. If he were anyone other than who he was, she would go after him—no, she would let him come after her. She smiled a little at the old-fashioned thought. But he was who he was.