The Daddy Dilemma

“Oh, my Lord.” She felt the color drain from her face as the reality of his words sunk in.

Nathan swore. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Although he might not want to admit it, she could see he was still upset by whatever had occurred. “Tell me what happened.”

“Kyle has never had an attack this serious before. He had the one when he was three…one last year…but nothing since. Just wheezing sometimes.” He told her about taking Kyle to the store to buy clothes, the possibility of fabric smells or perfume setting off the attack.

“You didn’t say anything about perfume when I came to visit.”

“You weren’t wearing any.”

No, she wasn’t. Because perfume bothered some of her clients, she was careful about the products she chose. But the fact that Nathan Barclay had noticed that…well, of course he would have noticed if he was protective of Kyle.

“So you don’t know for sure what caused it?”

“My father has another theory.”

“And that is?”

“Kyle has been different, more quiet, more subdued since your visit. Dad feels there was an unconscious connection between the two of you and Kyle felt the loss of that. He looked for something from you in the mail every day. Emotional stress can be a component in an asthma attack.”

“You didn’t want me to have any contact! You told me not to write…to stay out of Kyle’s life.”

“I know. Possibly I was wrong. Maybe I underestimated his need of a woman your age in his life.”

“You don’t believe we had a connection because I’m his mother and he’s my son?”

“We don’t know that. I don’t believe you two bonded because of some mystical mother-son thread. You played with Kyle…with his fire trucks. You read him stories. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

“Mr. Barclay—”

“It’s Nathan,” he said curtly. “If we’re going to be around each other, if you’re going to be under my roof, we might as well be on a first-name basis.”

“You want me to stay in your house rather than the lodge?” she asked in astonishment.

“The whole point of this is for you to spend time with Kyle, isn’t it?”

“And if I’m not his mother?”

“Then he’ll have made a new friend. You can write to him and he can write back, and we can all relax.”

Was this really so simple for him? “When are you returning to Rapid Creek?”

“Tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be away too long. The doctor changed Kyle’s medication, and he seems to be doing fine. But I don’t want to take any chances.”

She did some quick calculating, weighing pros and cons, responsibility in her job against responsibility for a boy who could be her son. “I can’t fly back with you tomorrow. But I think I’ll be able to arrange everything by Tuesday. Would that be all right?”

“Tuesday would work out well. My brother Ben is flying in Wednesday night. We can keep Kyle’s excitement to small doses.”

Sara wondered again if Nathan was trying to protect Kyle a little too much…and if that might not be the basis of the whole problem. But she couldn’t put forth that theory until she learned more about Kyle and Nathan, how they related, and more about asthma itself. On the other hand, Nathan probably wouldn’t want to hear what she thought about it. Even if she was Kyle’s biological mother, she still had no legal claim, no parental claim, because of the release form she’d signed. She had to simply try to keep everything on an even keel with Nathan and not upset the proverbial apple cart. Most important, she had to prove she could be a healthy influence in Kyle’s life. In addition, she’d like to get a handle on Nathan. Try to get to know him a little better before she landed on his turf again.

She asked, “Did you check into a motel?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because I have a spare bedroom. You’re welcome to sleep here tonight if you’d like. If I’m going to be spending time at your house, it only seems fair.”

His eyes locked on hers. “Are you sure you want a houseguest on such short notice?”

Trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, she smiled. “I was a Girl Scout. I’m always prepared. I have extra towels, a new bar of soap and clean sheets on the guest room bed. Your staying will be no trouble at all.”

Yet as she noticed the intensity in his dark eyes, the beard stubble lining his jaw, the lines around his mouth and his taut, nicely shaped lips, she suddenly realized inviting him to stay the night could cause her trouble with a capital T.

Her heart sped up while she waited for his answer, and she didn’t know whether to hope he’d accept her offer or leave for a motel!

Chapter Three

As Nathan stared up at the ceiling of Sara’s spare room, with the subtle scent of lavender escaping from a dish on the dresser, he reminded himself again that staying here was the practical and convenient thing to do. After all, he’d be leaving first thing in the morning. What did it matter where he bedded down for the night?

It mattered.

When he’d accepted her invitation, she’d told him straight out that she wouldn’t bother him, that he could pretend he was staying at a hotel, that she had some work to do on her computer in her bedroom and he could make himself a sandwich, open the package of cookies on the counter, help himself to whatever he could find.

That’s what he’d done, and he’d turned in early.

Levering himself up in the double bed now, he switched on the bedside lamp. He felt so out of place here. This wasn’t a motel. The furniture wasn’t impersonal. Sara had told him this brass bed had been hers when she was a child. The blue-and-white-striped spread and coordinating curtains were obviously new. But the snow globe with the castle on the dresser, the photograph of Sara and her mother in the crystal frame on the nightstand, the faded latch-hook rug with butterflies and flowers next to the bed, were belongings Sara clearly cherished.

He realized he was trying to get to know this woman without actually getting to know her. Maybe he was just searching for signs or signals that would warn him if there were dangerous waters ahead. His eyes fell on the paperback thriller poking out of his duffel bag. But then his stomach grumbled. He might as well get something to eat and spend the next hour reading. Maybe then he could doze off.

Listening for a moment, he didn’t hear a sound in the apartment, and suspected Sara was already sound asleep.

He’d brought navy flannel sleeping shorts for his overnight stay. He hadn’t figured he’d need anything else, alone in a motel room. He could put on his jeans. Nah. He’d be in and out of the kitchen in a couple of minutes.

When he passed Sara’s room, he was relieved to see no light shone under the door. He switched on the hall light soundlessly, then went down the short corridor to the dining room. As he passed through it, he saw the hood light glowing over the stove in the kitchen. At the same moment, he realized Sara was standing at the sink, likely as startled to see him as he was to see her. She was wearing a fuchsia nightshirt with Peace embroidered across the front in sparkly letters. The sleeves went to her elbows, while the V-neck hinted at her cleavage.

He quickly pulled his gaze up to her face, but that wasn’t a whole lot better. Her blond hair was tousled. Her big green eyes were wide with surprise. Devoid of makeup, her flawless skin asked to be touched.

He stopped, not sure whether to proceed or retreat. Her gaze was glued to his bare chest for a moment, then dropped lower, to the elastic band on his shorts. His equilibrium went haywire.

Finally, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks a little flushed, she said, “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“And I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You need another pillow or comforter or—?”

“No, Sara. I’m just fine.” Then he said the first thing that came into his head. “My stomach was grumbling.”

Her hand fluttered toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself. There’s still plenty of sandwich fixings. I’m trying warm milk. Want some?”