“No! I don’t have to think anything over.” She shook her head, retreating another step into the kitchen. “You’re crazy. Marry you…I don’t even know you. I don’t want to know you.”
Her words cut deep, spawning anger. “I’m the boy’s father.”
“Nate.” She tipped her head back, challenge in her dark eyes. “His name is Nate. And you were a sperm donor, not a father.”
“I didn’t even know he existed.”
“You and I both know I had valid reasons for keeping that to myself.”
It shouldn’t hurt anymore. His years in prison should have made him numb, should have dulled the sharp edges of his emotions. But the judgment of the court was nothing compared to Nina’s scorn.
If only he could rewrite history…
He might have made a different choice that night in Sacramento. Might have taken a different path, might have…abandoned his brother. But could he have chosen his son over Sean? The look of confusion on her face at his brooding silence jarred him from his thoughts.
“I understand you were put in a difficult position,” he acknowledged. “I only know that now I want to do the right thing.”
She crossed her arms over her middle in a gesture of self-protection. “The right thing would be for you to leave. Get out of our lives.”
It should have been easy to walk away. To step back from the responsibility, from a son who didn’t know him, who by all rights would probably be better off never knowing him. He made a lousy role model. He’d never made anything of himself. His one supreme sacrifice had been a lost cause that couldn’t save anyone—not the people in the other car, not even his brother.
Yet something kept him rooted to the spot. Something within him screamed out his objections. There was a chance here, for redemption, for retribution, for rebirth. Salvation lay in the small, compact body of a sweet-faced four-year-old boy.
His boy.
Jameson dug deep for fortitude. “I need to be part of his life, Nina.”
She hugged herself tighter. “No.”
“One way or another, Nina. I will be part of his life.”
Her brown gaze narrowed. “Meaning what?”
“You can’t keep him from me.” His stomach churned as he forced out the words. “I have rights.”
“No, you don’t. I’m his mother. You’re nothing to him.”
“I want to be something.” Desperation to make her understand moved Jameson nearer. He hated himself for the fear he saw in her face, just as he’d hated his father for putting that look in his mother’s eyes. But he couldn’t back down. He had to find a way to make her agree.
“Nina…” He touched her lightly on the shoulder and she shivered. “It doesn’t have to be…a conventional marriage. We don’t have to…”
She swallowed and the movement of her throat mesmerized him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “We can share a house, share a life, but not…”
What would the delicate skin of her throat feel like against his palm? If he grazed his lips along the curve from jaw to collarbone, would her pulse quicken against his mouth? Tangled in his imagination, he lost the thread of their conversation.
“Jameson…” she said, the words barely a whisper.
It wasn’t invitation in her voice, but he couldn’t resist bending his head down to hers, to taste his name on her lips. It wouldn’t do a damn thing to advance the cause of marrying him, but in that moment he couldn’t think of a thing except kissing her.
She couldn’t let him kiss her again. As bad a mistake as it had been earlier, now the lunacy of his marriage proposal hung over her. The moment he touched her nothing else mattered but his heat. She had to protect her son, not give in to the longings Jameson set off with just a brush of his fingertips against her skin.
His lips hovered over hers, nearly too close to resist. She mustered her resolve and stepped aside, then skirted him so she could gain some space. She backed into the café’s dining area, striking her ankle on a chair leg. She used the pain to bring her back to her senses.
“I want you to leave.” The words weren’t quite steady, but clear enough. “Please go.”
He took a step toward her, but now she had the space to retreat. “Jameson, please.”
“I’m not leaving until we settle this.”
“We have. I won’t marry you.”
“Nate needs a father and I’m it. I won’t ask you for anything in our marriage except to be his mother. I’ll stay out of your bedroom. But you will marry me.”
“I won’t! You can’t force me—”
He closed the distance between them so rapidly, she didn’t have a chance to so much as breathe, let alone escape. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, gentle but implacable.
“No, I can’t force you.” The words were laden with quiet menace. “But I will do everything in my power to assert my parental rights.”
“You’re an ex-con—no judge in his right mind would grant you visitation, let alone custody.”
“My grandmother, on the other hand, is a fine, up-standing citizen, with more money than she could ever spend in a lifetime. She’d be thrilled to know she has a great-grandson. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to act as his guardian.”
Horror filled her. “You wouldn’t take him away from me.”
Something flickered in his face and he glanced away from her. Then his gaze grew as hard and cold as polished lapis. “Marry me, Nina.”
A hole opened inside her, threatening to envelop her. She tried to think, but her thoughts kept chasing each other, an endless loop of fear. She’d barely known Jameson five years ago—now he was a complete stranger. But was he capable of the ultimate cruelty? Would he take Nate away from her?
He wouldn’t because she wouldn’t let him. She would pack up Nate and abandon her home, her business, her family, before she would give up her son.
She needed time, enough space to think things through. “Please, give me a night. Come back tomorrow and we’ll—”
“When tomorrow?”
She tugged her captive hand and relief washed over her when he released her. She could still feel the imprint of his skin against hers. “Nate goes to preschool at nine. Give me until ten to set up for lunch. Then we’ll talk.”
He nodded, but his gaze roved over her face as if searching for duplicity. She blanked her expression, quieted her thoughts, refused to flinch as his visual exploration passed over her like a caress.
“Tomorrow,” she said, injecting as much conviction as she could into the word. “I promise.”
“I just want to do what’s right, Nina.”
The fervency in his simple vow clutched at her heart. She hardened herself against the feeling. “Then why won’t you just go?” Away from them. Out of their lives.
Jameson’s throat worked. “Because he needs me.”
“He doesn’t even know you.”
“But he still needs me.”
He pulled away then, giving her a wide berth as he headed for the door. She waited until she was certain he was gone, then hurried over to lock the front dead bolt, giving the handle a tug to be certain the bolt was thrown. She had to resist the irrational urge to further bar the door by pulling a table in front of it.
Keys