Child by Chance Page 15

  He smiled. So did she. He glanced at her lips. Remembering the touch of his, she glanced away. And saw Kent grinning as he looked from one to the other.

  “Okay,” she said. It would give her the chance to tell him about Vegas. After Kent went to bed. And see how badly he still wanted to see her after he found out about her pole-dancing skills.

  Really, she was worrying about nothing. She’d get to see her son’s home so when she was alone she could picture him there. And then her past life was going to take care of the present one all by itself.

  * * *

  THE MOVIE PREMIERE was a marginal success. Kent didn’t purposely embarrass him. He fell asleep during the movie, but that was okay. Sherman had a meeting set up Tuesday morning to go over campaign figures with the movie’s producer. And they were out of there in time to stop for fresh beef tenderloin filets on the way home.

  For most of the drive, while Kent chattered on about the order of household chemicals they should use in the fire to make the most impressive show for Ms. Malone, Sherman was thinking about ground rules.

  Kent knew about sex. He didn’t need to know whether or not his father was having it.

  Not that he was going to that night. But a guy never knew and...

  He wasn’t going to embarrass Talia by having a ten-year-old boy know that she was having sex with his dad.

  Not that she was.

  They’d kissed once.

  And been halfway to him inside her with that one touch of their mouths.

  Just remembering that kiss made him grow. Shifting his thoughts, Sherman came face-to-face with the challenge confronting him.

  He was a single father. He couldn’t just have sex any time the mood took him.

  So be it.

  Life was good.

  * * *

  TALIA DIDN’T TALK to Sherman about her past that night. She’d been up before dawn, worked an extra shift and had to be back in LA before the store opened at eleven in the morning. She had homework to do.

  She was too tired to fight the truth tonight. Too tired to stay until Kent went to bed. She didn’t want to burst into tears the next time her son tilted his head when he talked in that slightly cocky, mostly innocent way he had. He was so darned cute.

  And so was his dad. In an entirely different way.

  Bottom line, she was in waaay over her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as Sherman walked her to her car just before 11:00 p.m.

  “No reason to be sorry,” he said, his usual cheerful self. He had both hands in his pants pockets. She was glad.

  And a bit let down, too.

  Sexual desire was a relatively novel thing for her, and she liked it.

  “How about joining us at the beach tomorrow?” His question had her blood rushing like a schoolgirl’s again. He really liked her.

  “I have to work.” And before he could say more she added, “My schedule this semester is crazy. I have online classes three mornings a week and classes in LA the other two. My afternoons are spent traveling around to different elementary schools. I’m at the Stand five days a week and now Tuesday and Thursday nights, and I have homework. Weekends I work.”

  No time for thinking. Or regrets. At least that had been the plan. To give her the best chance of success as she forged her new life.

  The whole point in looking up Kent in the first place. So that she could have the closure she needed to put the past fully behind her.

  Her schedule was going to solve her problem with the Paulson men for her. No need to talk about her previous career. Or worry about heartbreak.

  She didn’t have time for Sherman to fall in love with her.

  Not that he would have.

  “How about dinner at the beach near the Stand Monday?” he proposed. The complete antithesis of her plan.

  “You’re there, anyway. So am I, picking up Kent. We go to this little Italian place on the beach sometimes. Kent loves their baked spaghetti. And you have to eat...”

  He was grinning. Her stomach was melting again. “Don’t fight it so hard,” Sherman said, his expression serious as he leaned closer to her.

  If he only knew...

  But he didn’t.

  He didn’t need to know. Because she wasn’t going to let anything come of this.

  “I, um, okay.”

  She agreed. And then lifted her chin to the kiss he was about to plant on her lips. She wasn’t disappointed. In the kiss.

  Yet as she drove home, she was disappointed in herself. Exhausted in every way, she thought about the willpower that had kept her away from drugs and alcohol when the relief would have made life so much easier to bear. Where was that willpower now?

  But she knew. This wasn’t about willpower. It wasn’t even about strength or stubbornness. Or choices. She was fighting a battle she wasn’t equipped to fight. She had no arsenal. No experience or knowledge.

  The war raged within her. For so long her head had controlled her world. She’d elected it her leader the morning they’d taken her son out of her body and out of the room before she could even see him. It had served her well.

  For so long she’d thought her heart was dead. For years it had left her alone.

  And now, over the past year, her heart had been staging an uprising. At first, it had been fairly easy to quell. Or at least she’d thought she was still in complete control.

  It was quickly becoming obvious she wasn’t. Somehow, while she’d been busy moving and taking classes and making amends for deserting Tatum, her heart had been slowly gaining control.

  Confusing the hell out of her.

  Truth was she had no idea what to do with it now that it was coming back to life.

  And wasn’t sure she could let it continue.

  Sometimes dead was just...better.

  For everyone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  WE AREN’T A FAMILY. We aren’t a family. Talia wished she had a sign to wear, a tattoo on her forehead, anything to let the waitresses and other diners all know the truth. It seemed to her that wherever she looked, people were smiling at their cute little family Monday night.

  Kent was adorable. His manners were impeccable. His conversation entertaining. And his father could just sit there and do nothing and she was turned on as hell. When he looked into her eyes across the table, she couldn’t swallow.

  Maybe, given time, her body would get used to the foreign sensation. Maybe not. She’d never know. They weren’t a family and couldn’t ever be one.

  She was going to tell Sherman just as soon as she had some time alone with him. Someday in the near future for sure.

  She’d followed them to dinner—which Sherman insisted on paying for—and as soon as they finished, she got in her car and drove home. She had her own classwork to do and tomorrow’s collage workshop to prepare for.

  She was still considering Mirabelle’s offer, too.

  And those things had to be her focus. They were her future.

  Not the two lonely men that she couldn’t get out of her mind.

  * * *

  KENT BURPED AND FARTED, purposely loud, at the table on Wednesday night. If he’d have laughed, Sherman probably would have smiled.

  As it was, with Kent ignoring his rude behavior and staring stone-faced at the salt and pepper shakers, his actions were clearly a return to the rebelliousness Sherman had thought they were leaving in the past. Odd, since his son had just come from his session at the Lemonade Stand.

  “Can Jason spend the night Friday?” he asked as Sherman was tucking him into bed that night.

  “I don’t think he can leave the Lemonade Stand,” Sherman reminded his son. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll call Ms. McDaniels in the morning and see if I can get permission to bring him here.
No promises, though.”

  “Okay. Cool.”

  Yeah. Sherman needed to meet this kid. To see what kind of influence he was having on his son.

  “Sleep well,” he said, tousling Kent’s hair as he stepped away from the bed.

  “Dad?”

  Turning back, he saw the boy staring at him in the darkness, Kent’s night-light casting a particularly angelic glow on the boy’s face.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry about the fart.”

  He stood still. Processed. This was huge. Choose the right words.

  Stifling his first reaction to put Kent on the spot and ask why he had done it, he said instead, “Thanks for the apology. I appreciate it.”

  Kent’s eyes were already closed.

  * * *

  “WHERE’S TATUM?” KENT climbed into Talia’s car on Thursday, looking in the backseat.

  “A friend asked her to go roller blading down by the beach,” Talia told the boy.

  “What friend? Not that Jimmy guy.”

  “Yes, Jimmy.” It was Tatum’s first date since her time at the Lemonade Stand. Talia was nervous as all get-out for her little sister.

  Kent looked out the window. “He’s not good enough for her.”

  “You know him?”

  “No.”

  She was sure that made some kind of kid sense. But it suddenly occurred to Talia that Kent had gotten the wrong idea about Tatum’s affection for him.

  “You know she’s sixteen, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that she’s going to be dating. If not Jimmy, then someone else.”

  “I know.”

  Was Kent jealous? He was only ten but kids grew up so quickly these days. Tatum was beautiful and Kent didn’t know she was his aunt.

  “Do you have a girl you like?” she asked him, feeling her way like a soldier in a minefield.

  “Nah,” he said, his arms folded. His little leather shoes rested on top of his backpack on the floor at his feet.

  “You know,” Talia said, “even if Tatum goes out with Jimmy, even if she likes him, she’s still your friend.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Oh, boy. What now?

  “Did Dad tell you that he’s asking if Jason can sleep over tomorrow?”

  “No.” She hadn’t spoken to Sherman since Monday night in the parking lot after dinner. They hadn’t bumped into each other.

  And he hadn’t called.

  Which was for the best.

  “Well, he is.” The boy turned worried gray-blue eyes in her direction and she was a kid again, looking at Tatum and knowing that she’d do anything she could to make her happy. “Do you think you could, you know, help?”

  “You want me to talk to Ms. McDaniels for him?”

  “Yeah. I really want Jason to come and we’ve got a good house. You know, you’ve seen it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good, ’cause you like my dad and everything.”

  She turned into the Stand’s back lot. Parked in her usual spot. And wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t give Kent false expectations.

  “Your dad and I are friends,” she said slowly as they got out and headed across the large expanse of grass side by side. How to handle Sherman’s relationship with women in front of his son was strictly Sherman’s call.

  Until it came to her part in it.

  “I know, Dad tells me it’s none of my business about who he dates and that he makes love,” the boy said, breaking into giggles.

  “He told you that?”

  “Yeah.” More giggles. Kent was leaning forward with the weight of his backpack on his shoulders and stumbled but righted himself before she could help.

  The man was talking to his son about him having sex? And she was the first woman he’d dated since his wife’s passing?

  The idea should not excite her. But it did. And that scared the wits out of her.

  She was going to have to put an end to all of it. Tatum with Kent. Sherman. Everything.

  Kent was going to get hurt.

  And she couldn’t stand by and let that happen.

  * * *

  WHAT A CRAZY WEEK. Sitting alone on the porch Friday night, waiting for the boys to come out for the fire he’d promised them, Sherman sipped a beer and thought about Talia.

  These days she played a part in all of his thoughts. He’d been surprised with an offer that week to head up a state campaign. The offer fell right in line with his career plan.

  But he hadn’t counted on it until after the next election numbers came in.

  And as he’d accepted the position, he’d thought about Talia. About having her on his arm at some of the upscale events he’d be required to attend.

  He thought about her all day long, imagining which part of her harried schedule she was keeping up with at whatever moment.

  The wood was in place for the fire. The sun had completely set. Chemicals were measured out and ready. The boys should be along any moment. And Sherman thought about another time Talia consumed his attention.

  Bedtime.

  She was Playboy bunny and sweet innocence rolled into one. He hadn’t walked around with hard-ons like this since he was a teenager.

  Life was good and...where were the boys?

  Setting his bottle on the little round table Brooke had chosen to go with their outdoor chairs, he went inside. Listening.

  He didn’t call out as he usually did when looking for his son. Something told him the boys were up to no good and he wanted to catch them in the act. They were in the computer room. He could hear their voices, though they were speaking covertly enough that he couldn’t make out the words.

  Not really whispering, but close to it.

  What was going on?

  He’d had reservations about Jason, but the ten-year-old redhead had been respectful and pleasant on the drive home. And at dinner his manners had been better than Kent’s. Until Kent burped. And they both laughed. Which resulted in a burping contest.

  Heaven help him, he’d joined in.

  And been quite proud of himself when he’d won.

  As he got closer to the door, he heard Kent say something, a note of excitement in his voice, followed by an equally intense response from Jason.

  He wasn’t sneaking, wasn’t quieting his footsteps on the carpet in the hall. Hadn’t even thought to, until he heard Kent’s urgent, “Quick, Dad’s coming...” just as he rounded the corner.

  The computer screen flashed and then both boys were standing there, staring at Kent’s home page.

  Sherman was 100 percent sure that the boys wouldn’t have been speaking intensely about the picture of Sherman and a four-year-old Kent at the ocean that Brooke had had on her screen home page—and Kent had kept there.

  He stood before the two of them, took a deep breath and then asked, “What’s going on?” His tone was nonthreatening even if the question wasn’t.

  “Nothing,” Kent said as Jason stared at the wall.

  “You want to try that again?”

  “What?” Kent said, a hint of attitude in his tone.

  “That answer. And make it the truth this time.”

  “Nothing’s going on! We were on my computer,” Kent said. “Is there a law against that?”

  Taken aback, Sherman literally counted to five in his head. “Jason, you want to tell me what you and Kent were doing?”

  “No, sir.” The boy’s voice shook.

  Sliding his hands from his hips to his pockets, Sherman surveyed the situation. Or tried to. He was angry. But even more afraid.

  “I have a problem in that we can’t continue on with our night, can’t get out to the fire, or even to bed lat
er, until I know what you boys were doing just before I came in.”

  “Fine. Here!” Kent said. With jerky movements prompted by obvious anger the boy turned back to his computer, grabbed the mouse and, with a series of clicks, brought up a page of thumbnail photos.

  Sherman’s heart pounded, and he about lost his dinner. He knew what he was going to see when Kent clicked open those photos. He just had no idea how he was going to handle the situation.

  The boy would be banned from computer use, for sure. That was a given. A promise already made when Kent’s computer rules were first established.

  The first picture opened full-size, filling the screen.

  It was Brooke. All dressed up for election night a little more than two years before—the November before her February death.

  Kent clicked again and there was another picture of his mother, smiling for the camera.

  He didn’t understand.

  “This is what you were looking at?”

  “Yes!” The word was a hiss.

  “So why the subterfuge?”

  “I don’t even know what that is.”

  Wow, his son’s belligerence was back in spades.

  “Why close the screen as soon as I walked in? Why not just tell me you were looking at photos of your mother?”

  “We weren’t just looking at pictures, Dad.” If he didn’t know better he’d say there was hate in Kent’s voice just then. And he’d never been more confused in his life. What had he done between dinner and their burping contest and now?

  “So what were you doing?”

  “Talking about how she died, okay!” the boy screamed at him. “Because you sure never do!”

  He stood there, trying to make sense of it all.

  “You’ve never even tried to find out who killed her, Dad! He runs off and gets away and no one cares about any of it!” If Kent had been larger his voice would likely have been heard down the block.

  Sherman noticed Jason slinking off toward the desk, his shoulders hunched and his head down. “So that’s why you’re mad at me? Because I’m not trying to find the guy who was driving the other car that night?”

  “Yes!”

  Jason flinched at the high-pitched screech.

  Really? Months of hell for that? He’d told Kent that the police weren’t going to stop looking for the person who’d been driving the stolen car. And Dr. Jordon had advised him to leave it at that unless Kent brought it up.