Single Mum Seeking...: A Daddy for Her Sons / Marriage for Her Baby / Single Mom Seeks...

But Jill was different. He made up his mind that night that he was going to tell her how he felt about her once they got back to the university. And he was resolved—he was going to take her away from Brad. Somehow, someway, he would do it. He spent hours going over what he wanted to say, how he wanted to make her understand his feelings.

And then they got back to school, and there was Brad on crutches. He’d gone waterskiing and broken his leg. Suddenly he needed Jill. Connor felt himself fading into the background, like some sort of invisible man, and wondering why his timing was always so bad.

It was shortly afterward that he signed up to go to Europe for a semester. When he got back, he learned that Jill and Brad had broken up just after he left. From what he could see, Brad was busy dating every pretty girl on campus while Jill was busy trying to pretend she didn’t care.

He took her to his favorite little Italian restaurant and they ate pasta and talked for hours. He ended up with his arm around her while she cried on his shoulder about how awful Brad was being to her. He restrained himself. He was going to do it right. He was going to take it one step at a time.

But once again, the timing wasn’t in his favor. By the next afternoon, Brad was back in her life and all was forgiven.

That was when he’d hardened his heart. It had happened to him one too many times. He wasn’t going to let it happen again—ever. Even today he was wary. What seemed like the opportunity to strike so often ended up as the chance to fall on his face instead. It wasn’t worth it.

“I think of that trip to San Francisco as an island of happiness in an ocean of stress,” she said softly. She looked at him with gentle speculation and a touch of pure affection. “Everything is always so easy with you. And it was always so hard with Brad.”

Really? Really?

He stared at her, wondering how she could say such a thing. If that was so, why had she married the hard guy? He was tempted to come right out and ask her that question. That just might clarify a lot of things between them. But before he could think of a way to put it, she spoke again.

“So, was it serious?” she asked him.

He was startled. “Was what serious?”

“You and Sharon Wong?”

“Oh.” He laughed, then considered for a moment. “Who knows? It might get to be. If I go back to Singapore.”

She turned away. Why did she have such a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach? Was she jealous? Ridiculous. He deserved to fall in love. He deserved some happiness. Hadn’t she just been counseling him to find someone to marry? And now she was going to go all green-eyed over a woman he obviously had some affection for? What a fool she was acting.

Connor was probably the best man she knew. He’d always been there for her—except when he took off for places like Singapore. Still, he’d always been a playboy in so many ways. She couldn’t imagine him in love.

“I never knew any of your girlfriends in college,” she noted. “Why was that? You never showed up with a girl on your arm. I knew they existed, because I heard about them. How come you never brought them around?”

He gazed at her and didn’t know what to say. He’d dated plenty of girls in college. But why would he take any of them to meet the one girl he cared about above all others? They would have seen through his casual act in no time.

Funny that she never did.

He stared at her for a long, pulsing moment. “You could have had me anytime you wanted me,” he said in a low, rough voice.

There. He’d said it. Finally a little hunk of truth thrown out into this sea of making everyone feel good about themselves. What was she going to do about it?

“Connor!”

She didn’t seem to want to take it as truth. More like teasing. Did she really think he was making a joke?

“Be serious,” she said, waving that away. “You know that’s not true. You didn’t want anyone to be your steady girl. You wanted fun and excitement and games and flirting. You didn’t want a real relationship. You admitted it at the time.” She made a face at him. “You have to realize that back then, what you wanted didn’t seem to have anything to do with what I wanted.”

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know how you could have read me so wrong.”

“I didn’t.” She made a face at him. “You just don’t remember things the way they really were. I was looking for the tie that binds, just like a lot of women at that age. It’s a natural instinct. Nesting. I felt a deep need for a strong male, someone to build the foundation of a family with.”

He almost rolled his eyes at her. Was she really so self-delusional? “So you chose a guy who didn’t want kids.”

Her shoulders sagged. He got her on that one. What had she been thinking? He was right. She’d known from the first that he didn’t want children. Somehow she had buried that fact under everything, pretending to herself that it didn’t matter. Maybe she wouldn’t want children, either. Or, more likely, he would change his mind. After all, once it was a clear possibility, surely he would think twice and begin to waver. After all, he loved her. Didn’t he?

“I didn’t say I chose wisely.” She hated to face it, but he had hit the nail on the head. Her mistakes had been easy to avoid, if she’d only been paying more attention. Sighing, she rose. “I want to check on the kids. And I think I’ll change out of this uniform. Will you still be up or should I not come back and let you get some sleep?”

He looked at her and realized he wanted her back above all else. He wanted her in his bed, in his arms, in his life. But for now he would have to do with the minimum.

“Sure, come on back,” he said, holding up his wineglass. “I’ve still got a long way to go.”

She was glad he’d said that. As she stopped in to look at her sleeping children, she sighed. The upturned crib was not a long-term solution. Something would have to give. She only hoped it wasn’t her peace of mind.

She stopped by the guest room where she slept and changed into something more comfortable, then hurried back down, wondering if he would be asleep before she got back. But he was still staring at the light through his wine and he smiled to welcome her as she entered the room.

She flopped down on the little couch, sitting much closer this time. She was drawn to his warmth, drawn to his masculinity. Might as well face it. She loved looking at him, loved the thought of touching him. Would he kiss her good-night? That would be worth a little loss of sleep.

“Connor, how come I don’t really know anything about your childhood? How come you never talk about it?”

He took a long sip of wine and looked at her through narrowed eyes. Then he put on his Sam Spade tough-guy voice. “It’s not a pretty story, sweetheart. Full of ugliness and despair. You don’t want to worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Be serious for a moment,” she asked. “Really. I want to know you better.”

“Why? What more can there be? We’ve known each other for more than ten years and suddenly you don’t know me?”

“Exactly. You’ve used our friendship as cover all this time. And now I want to know the truth. What were your parents really like? Not the cartoon version you dredge up for jokes. The real people.”

He appeared uncomfortable for a moment, then thought for a second or two, and began.

“Let’s just put it this way. As they say in the head-shrinking crowd, I’ve had lifelong relationship commitment problems, which can probably be traced back to my childhood environment.”

“And that means?”

He stared at her. Did she really want him to go there? Okay.

“I learned early and firsthand just what kind of power women have,” he said softly. “I watched my mother purposefully drive my father crazy. Payback, I think, for never making as much money as she felt she needed.”

“Ouch.” She frowned.

“Yes.” He glanced at his ruby-red wine and thought back. “My father was a sweet guy in many ways. He tried hard to please her. But he just didn’t have what it took to bring in a high salary, and she rubbed his nose in it every day.”

“Oh, Connor,” she said softly.

“I watched him go through all sorts of contortions to find some little way to bring a smile to her face, but that was virtually impossible. She nitpicked everything. Nothing was ever good enough for her.” He threw her a lopsided grin. “Especially me.”

“So she nitpicked you, too?”

“Oh, yeah. I think finding something to make me stammer out ‘gee, I’m sorry, Mom,’ was what made her day for her.” He looked at her. “So I avoided going home. I hung around school in the afternoon, joined every sports team, every debating society, every club that would give me a place to hang out.” His gaze darkened. “Meanwhile my father drank himself to death.”

“Oh, Connor. I’m so sorry.”