Her Reason to Stay Page 11

  “I need to leave for a second.” Gloria had joined them at a more sedate pace. “Maybe Daphne could keep an eye on Will if you need to go back upstairs.”

  Daphne took no offense at Patrick’s obvious reluctance. “I understand,” she said.

  “No.” He pulled himself together and reached for her. His hand grasped her shoulder firmly. He might not be willing to acknowledge the need that sharpened his face, but he couldn’t hide it when he touched her. “Maybe you could come up to the courtroom. I need to guide my client through his allocution and finish the paperwork that will get him into treatment and off my desk.”

  Gloria looked taken aback.

  Patrick grabbed at his tie. “Sorry. I’m not thinking clearly, or I wouldn’t be shouting his business like the freaking town crier.” He shut his mouth again, holding Will’s head against him with a shaking hand. Daphne would have done anything to lessen his pain. “Can you come sit with Will for a few minutes outside the courtroom?”

  “Sure. Do you mind, Will?”

  Patrick’s son lifted his head, and Patrick’s face in miniature looked at her, blue eyes more scared than icy, his mouth almost curved in a hesitant smile.

  “You made that man stop running with me,” he said.

  He owned her with his tiny voice and his acceptance. She’d been that child, who knew bad things happened and believed they might again. “Grandma did the hard work. Do you want to sit with me for a little while?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll hurry.” Gloria set out again at a pace that would have shamed a woman half her age. “And, Will, when I get back, you and Daddy and I are going to bake cookies at your house.”

  “Well, Daddy may write up a restraining order,” Patrick said. “But I can do that after we make cookies if you want them, Will.”

  “I like ’em.” Unconvinced, but willing to be persuaded, he plied Daphne with some Gannon charm. “You come, too, and make cookies.”

  Silence hit like a bomb. Daphne backpedaled first. “I’m sure your grandma and your dad—”

  “We’d love to have you join us,” Gloria said, over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t we, Patrick?”

  “Come make cookies,” he said, but he seemed to be offering other pleasures.

  “You sound funny, Daddy.”

  “I’m just so glad Grandma and Daphne kept you safe.”

  “She helped me get back to Grandma.” Will clung to his father, shy and sweet. “So she can make cookies with us, right?”

  Daphne trailed father and son inside and then into the lobby elevator. What next? As the car opened, Patrick turned left and hurried toward a set of highly varnished double doors.

  He unpeeled Will’s arms from around his neck and set him on a bench, pausing to kiss his boy’s forehead. His long fingers, stroking Will’s cheek, touched Daphne in a way totally different than when he’d held her. This was family. This was what she dreamed of, yet hardly dared to believe that the dream could come true.

  She slid onto the bench and touched Patrick’s arm, enjoying the silky brush of dark hair on his strong wrist. “I have to call Miriam. Can I use my cell out here?”

  His gaze zeroed in on her. “You were supposed to be working?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I only want to let her know I’ll come back to the shop later, and she’ll need to redo that one arrangement.”

  Half a smile tilted his mouth. She held her breath, aware that he was able to reach her in a way nobody else had ever done before.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, bud.” He ruffled Will’s hair and then touched Daphne’s shoulder again. She felt her whole body quiver. “Thank you,” he said. “This little guy means the world to me.”

  Daphne fought tears. She put her arm around Will, and he leaned against her. His body, warm and trusting, curved into hers, made her tears fall. She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see. There was no way to explain to a five-year-old that she wasn’t sad. She was simply moved by Patrick’s love for his son.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “MMM, DADDY.” Will chomped on the first cookie, but then grabbed another one, fresh off the plate. “Give this one to Aunt Daphne. They’re yummy, Aunt Daphne.”

  Gloria turned from pulling another tray out of the stove. “Maybe you could offer Daphne the plate.”

  Laughing, Patrick looked more relaxed than Daphne had ever seen him. He’d dropped his coat on a bench by the front door and rolled up his sleeves. Flour streaked his dark pants and stuck to his elbow.

  He popped Will’s offering into his mouth, but then came around the counter with the plate and a napkin. The closer he got, the less comfortable Daphne felt.

  “I’m still loading this pan,” she said, her hands full of big spoon and cookie dough. “I thought you said the oven shouldn’t go empty until the cookies were all baked, Gloria.”

  “I just don’t like to waste energy. Come help me wash this bowl, Will, honey.”

  At the sink, Will climbed onto a stool, talking to his grandmother about the cookies they’d just made. Patrick came to Daphne’s side, a cookie in his hand. She looked into his eyes.

  He didn’t understand what she was about. She wanted this kind of life, an evening in a kitchen with family, a mother like Gloria, a child as full of trust and as beloved as Will obviously was.

  But she also wanted Patrick, and he’d made his decision perfectly clear. Now, as he offered her an oatmeal cookie, his gaze was on her mouth as if they were alone.

  “Do you want a bite?” he asked.

  She glanced at his mother and son. “You don’t seem sure of what you want.”

  “I’m offering you a cookie.” The silence between them was loud with unspoken passion. He curved his index finger beneath her chin. “Open your mouth,” he said.

  “I’m not afraid.” She caught his hand. “Are you?”

  Patrick stroked her bottom lip. She gasped and he broke off a piece of cookie. Not quite as in control as she’d meant to be, she opened her mouth and he set the piece on her tongue. Only the cookie stopped her from following the pad of his finger as he stroked her again.

  He curved his hand around her throat in a grazing, disturbing caress. She jerked away. He could talk about not getting involved, but he wasn’t willing to let go, either.

  “The cookies are wonderful, Gloria,” she said.

  Gloria turned just in time to miss Patrick turning a groan into a sigh.

  Will jumped off his stool. “Are you hurt, Aunt Daphne? You sound funny.”

  “I’m fine, honey.” Not hurt yet, but fully aware that she was laying herself open to that possibility. Patrick might be worth it. Feelings this strong didn’t come along every day.

  “I’LL DRIVE YOU BACK to your car,” Patrick said. Deep down he knew he’d wanted time alone with her since she’d accepted his mother and son’s invitation to join them. “Mom, do you mind looking after Will?”

  “Not a bit. Let’s get started on bath time as soon as we pack up some cookies for Daphne.”

  “Okay, Grandma. Thanks for helping me today, Aunt Daphne.”

  “You’re welcome.” She leaned down and hugged him. Her dark brown hair mingled with his blond. Will’s hands locked around her neck in a little boy’s hug.

  The room seemed to darken around them. If only he could trust that Daphne would never drink again. If only Will hadn’t suffered already because his father had been blind to Lisa’s addiction.

  “You were very brave.” Daphne dropped to her knees in front of Will. “And you did great.”

  “I was scared.”

  “Me, too, but because you yelled loudly, everything came out all right.” She hugged him again. She’d obviously been around children. Patrick hadn’t been so much at ease with his own son when he’d first started the divorce.

  “I knew if my grandma heard me, she would catch him and make him let me go.”

  “You have the fastest grandma I’ve ever seen.” Daphne rose, and Gloria, smiling, handed her a pla
te wrapped in plastic.

  “Thank you for everything,” Patrick’s mother said with meaning.

  “I’m just glad I was able to help. Night, Gloria. Night, Will.”

  “Good night, son. I’ll come kiss you when I get home.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  Daphne opened the kitchen door into the garden, and Patrick grabbed his coat and followed. In silence, she let him hold the gate for her. He hit the door locks on his keyless entry, and opened the passenger door.

  “I’m sorry. I should have brought my own car,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “None of us was.”

  He shut the door and went around to the driver’s side. Her scent filled his car.

  His hands tightened on the keys. “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “To tell me I’m not good enough because I’m fighting a drinking problem?”

  “I don’t know what I want to say. How do I explain you matter to me already? I’ve only known you a few weeks, but you make me feel as though I could care again.”

  “I feel the same, Patrick, and I never thought I would.”

  “But no matter how you make me feel, I have to remember that one day you could make a mistake, and your alcoholism could put my son in danger.”

  “No.” As she shook her head, her hair whispered against the leather seat. “I could drink. I have to face that, but I know beyond any doubt that I would never hurt Will. Not just because he’s a little boy who’s already suffered enough for a lifetime, but also because he’s your son. Part of you.”

  “Jeez, Daphne.” She took his breath away. Suddenly, he felt as if he were in a room with no oxygen.

  “Will you ever trust me enough to give me a chance, Patrick?”

  He didn’t answer, and she didn’t pursue the subject. He had a feeling men had treated her badly in the past. She understood how that worked, but she didn’t understand that he was fighting for his son—to make sure his choices didn’t hurt Will again.

  They reached the square and her car. Daphne gathered her keys from the soft shoulder bag she carried.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Daphne?”

  “Don’t.” She turned without opening the door. “I’m not playing games. I’ve never been good at pretending feelings don’t matter.”

  “Are you kidding?” He put his hand on the console between them. “Relationships are rarely as simple as a man and a woman deciding to be together. There are usually other factors.”

  “Such as?”

  “Lisa and me. I thought I loved her enough to keep her and Will safe. But I was wrong. Now, every time I think of her, I see my son lethargic and damn near dead in the back of that car. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say her name again without wanting to hurt someone.”

  “You’re not allowed to hurt me because of her. You want me. I think I even need you. I could be the answer to your prayers, but you’re too afraid to reach for me.”

  Swearing, he did just that, to keep her from opening the door and walking away again. He pulled her as close as the car would allow, and holding her nearly made him believe she was right. Her gaze, intent on his mouth, both challenged and pleaded.

  “I can’t,” he said, mostly to himself.

  “Why not? Why let something that will never happen ruin your life? Because losing me might be that bad, Patrick.”

  The console bit into his ribs. She stared into his eyes, hers all passion in the streetlights.

  “Kiss me, Patrick, and mean it. Know that it won’t be the last time.”

  She caught the sides of his jacket and pulled him so close he had only to breathe to take her mouth.

  “Are you safe, Daphne? Am I making a mistake that could hurt my son?”

  “You’d be crazy if you weren’t wary, but I’ve felt all your doubts about myself. I wouldn’t pretend if I didn’t think I could stay sober. When are you going to change and show Will how to get over being afraid?”

  She caught his face in her hands, but he couldn’t fight. He was already kissing her. The instant she opened to him, he felt as if he was sliding off the edge of fear. All that mattered was being close to this woman, touching her, pleasing her, healing himself in the passion of her need.

  A warning voice screamed inside his head as he fought its power. She wanted him and he wanted her. Wasn’t that reason enough?

  Did he dare trust that she would never hurt his son? With a groan, he pulled her closer still, tried to drive the doubts out of his own mind.

  His hands fell down her shoulders. She pulled back, opening the cardigan that made her skin glow as if a fire lay inside her. She undid the top button of her dress. He took the second.

  “Don’t rip them,” she said between caressing his jawline with her mouth. “I’m poor, remember.”

  He laughed in answer to the laughter in her voice.

  A rap at the window stilled them both and brought reality back with a thud. He helped her button her dress, his fingers trembling against the full breasts that taunted his sleep.

  The second rap was a thud.

  “Cops?” Daphne yanked her sweater together. “Open the window before you’re all over the evening news. I don’t want your mother or Will seeing this.”

  “Or Raina.”

  “She’d be fine. She’d laugh at us.”

  She was wrong. When he put the window down, Raina stood outside on the curb, and she wasn’t laughing.

  In jeans and a T-shirt and pearls, she looked conventional—and furious. “What are you thinking? The windows are smoked. This street is empty. I could have been any lunatic.”

  There was no way he could get out of the car just now to reassure her. “I’ll explain later, Raina. You’re absolutely right.”

  “Daphne, get out of the car.”

  Daphne burst into laughter. “It’s all right, Raina.”

  “I heard what happened on the square today. I had to hear from gossip, and I guess I’ll be hearing about this from the same source because Mrs. Tandred still rents that apartment above the bookstore.”

  “Will’s fine.” Daphne leaned across Patrick. Her breast, jutting into his shoulder, didn’t help his situation any.

  “You idiot, I’ve been worried about you, too. Mrs. Tandred thought you were me, and she said you were nearly hit by a car—”

  “What car?” Patrick asked, sliding his hand down her back. “Did you get hurt?”

  “You’ve had your turn to ask, but you were apparently after other information from my sister.”

  “Raina, you’re overreacting,” Daphne said.

  “Get out of the car,” Raina said again. “And you’re not staying in that fleabag hotel another night. I nearly lost my mind when I couldn’t reach you. Where is your phone?”

  Daphne felt around for it. “In my car, I guess.”

  “I’m taking you to the hotel and you’re packing and coming home with me.”

  “I’m not. Calm down.”

  “You are, if I have to pack for you.”

  “Let’s talk rent,” Daphne said.

  “Are you both kidding me?” Patrick asked.

  Daphne grinned at him. “I’ve got her cornered. She’s angry and scared right now. Tomorrow she’s just going to be pissed.”

  “Funny. Patrick, can you take your hands off my sister before you get her arrested? Daphne, we have ordinances in this town and you’ll find yourself all over the front page. Which will land on Patrick’s front door first thing in the a.m., and I happen to know their ritual is for Will to grab the paper while Patrick makes breakfast.”

  “You’re right.” Daphne crawled back onto her side of the car and opened the door.

  Patrick scrambled out of his side, aware of both women, his friend and his almost-lover. Raina looked as if she wanted to kill him.

  “I have to go,” Daphne said. “We should talk.”

  “So are you moving in with Raina?”

  “If we agree on rent,” s
he said, looking at her sister with determination.

  “Whatever you want,” Raina said. “I’ll steal you blind if I don’t have to worry about you anymore. Good night, Patrick.”

  “Hold on.” Raina’s attitude was starting to bug him. He wasn’t about to be treated like the flotsam in her sister’s life. “I’ll come to the house tomorrow, Daphne.”

  “You have my cell number.”

  “A fat lot of good that did me,” Raina said. She took her sister’s arm and hauled her toward Daphne’s battered car. “What possessed you to go after that guy in the square? And then not call me? I thought he might have friends who’d come after you.”

  Daphne looked back, but Patrick was remembering Will. That guy might have friends, and one of them might be Lisa. He had to make sure his son was safe before he made love to a woman in public again.

  “WHY DID YOU NEED to see her?” his mother asked with the foyer light behind her as he let himself into his house.

  “She helped us. I had to thank her.”

  “I think there’s more. I sensed something between you.”

  She’d have been blind if she hadn’t. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Mom.” He scooped her sweater off the bench near the door. “Where did you park?”

  “I’ll be fine. Will’s restless. Be quiet when you go upstairs.” She put on her sweater, brushing his hands away. “Stop helping everyone else, and think about yourself. You’ve been divorced for over a year.”

  “I never know when Lisa or someone she’s hired is going to make a grab for my son.”

  “If she won’t get treatment, you can’t change Will’s situation. Do you plan to spend the rest of your life barring the door?”

  “Until Will can protect himself.” He opened the door for her. “What choice do I have?”

  She buttoned her collar with a heavy sigh. “None, but you’re my son, and I see that woman tying you and Will up in knots. To tell you the truth, I could use a vase and a shot at her head, too.”

  He hugged her, one-armed. “She’s changing us all, Mother. That’s what bothers me most. How many more times will this happen before my son refuses to set foot out of the house? And here you are, a pacifist, looking to brain her.”