Secrets of Paternity(26)

And Kevin wanted him to give her up.

"House is cold," she said, stopping in front of the thermostat and adjusting it.

Kevin wants me to give you up.

He couldn't tell her that. Couldn't even hint at it.

"Do you have to leave right away?" she asked.

"Yeah." He set down her sacks and watched her keep herself busy by  straightening pillows that didn't need straightening, and stacking  magazines that were barely out of alignment. "Caryn?"

"Hmm?"

He identified her mood. She was trying to seem as if she was okay with  everything, when everything had suddenly changed. She'd already been  through enough in the past year, but maybe he would give her some  answers about Paul, get her money back and help her get started on her  new life again.                       
       
           



       

"I'm going to do everything I possibly can for you," he said.

Kevin wants me to give you up … .

"Are you?"

Hold on. What's this? He examined her face. She wasn't trying to come to terms with the newest events. She was ticked off.

"Of course I am," he said.

"I want to go with you," she said, crossing her arms.

"No."

"Yes. It's my life, my problems. I need to be part of the solution."

"This trip is only to talk to the CHP. I'm not doing anything else yet.  Johnson is not going anywhere. There's no reason to rush. And I can't do  my job well if I have to worry about you, too."

"You're just like him. Like Paul. You take all these stupid risks."

He didn't like being compared to Paul, who, in James's eyes, was weak.  He hadn't taken care of his family. "I take calculated risks," he said  coolly.

"You have scars! I saw then. Touched them."

"I'm alive."

She made a sound of frustration, as if she couldn't get her point  across, then she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. He resisted for a  second, maybe two before pulling her close and devouring her mouth,  taking everything she gave, giving back even more.

"I'm afraid you're going to get hurt," she whispered. "I'm so afraid. Then who will … Kevin have?"

He heard her hesitation but ignored it. He couldn't encourage her,  either, not with Kevin's demand weighing on him. Maybe Paul hadn't done  his job, but James would. He would make sure his son-yes, his son-would  have his answers and his future secure.

"I have to go," he said, holding her arms and moving her back.

"Already?"

He had a little time, but he didn't think it would make a difference. There was only so much that could be said.

She put her hands on his face. "Make love with me again. Please."

Unpredictable. She'd gone from being angry to-

She began unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't leave yet."

"I don't have much time."

"I don't think it's going to take long, Jamey."

Jamey. It was the first time she'd called him that. He swooped down,  tipping her head back, kissing her like it was the last time, which it  may be for them-if Kevin got his way. James didn't want to think about  that. He just wanted to feel … her, every curve, every plane, every soft  and hard place on her body. He wanted to kiss her until he couldn't  breathe, hold her until his arms shook, love her until she screamed.

He stripped her where they stood, finding the white lacy bra and panties  he'd known he would find, then removing them, neither gently nor  slowly. He peeled off his own clothes, lifted her so that her legs  straddled his hips and then carried her to her bedroom.

Feminine, just like her, he thought, aware of the room. A cream-colored  bedspread and pillows with lacy edges. He dropped her in the middle of  the bed and came down on her, merging mouths that were on fire with need  and expectation. He stayed there attacking her mouth until she breathed  as though she'd run a marathon. He moved down her body, drew one hard  nipple into his mouth, then the other. His tongue swirled and teased.  His lips measured and pulled. His teeth scraped. He filled his hands  with the soft flesh surrounding the hard peaks.

After a while he pushed himself lower; she lifted her hips higher. He  tasted her, cherished her, then slowed down, gentled his actions, taking  his time. Her hands pushed against his head; she grasped his hair. She  rocked, arched. Enjoyed. He lunged over her, plunged into her, felt her  hot, tight welcome. Was surrounded by it. Didn't want to give it up. But  his body had other ideas, other needs.

She pulled his head down for a kiss, openmouthed, demanding, without  tenderness, with unchecked passion. Without caution, with urgency. They  hit the pinnacle together, and there was something in the mutuality that  shot him higher, made it last longer.

He kissed her, a long, lingering kiss meant to soften the impact. She  looked as serious as she had before they'd fallen into bed.

"Do you promise you won't do anything yet?"

No, he couldn't promise. Things could happen. He didn't know, couldn't  predict for sure. "I can't promise, Caryn. I've told you what the plan  is. And you can't take time off from work, anyway. You've already told  me you could lose your job if you don't show up."

"Do you know how many restaurants are in this city? Three thousand. Think I can't get another job?"

"One as good?"                       
       
           



       

"One better." She shifted.

"I understand Kevin being mad at me, but not you. You should be seeing the big picture."

She sighed. "I can call you?"

"As often as you like."

"Don't be mad," she said with a smile.

"I'm not mad." He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but it would  only complicate things when they returned and he had to let her go.

As if just having sex with her wouldn't complicate-

He hadn't used birth control. None. Hadn't even considered it. Neither  had she said anything. What were they thinking? They could not, at their  ages, find themselves pregnant. Kevin already couldn't deal with  explaining James. What about if they had a baby together?

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He had to wait, like a teenager after prom night had gotten out of hand.

Except … why did the idea make him start imagining a family again, but  this time, people with faces he could put to them. And personalities.

The image took root, and held. He kissed her goodbye but didn't linger. Fate would do what it would do.





Sixteen





"I owe you for this," James said to Nate and Sam as they waited in an  interview room for the highway patrol officer who'd investigated Paul's  accident. "You've got other jobs to do." Hell, they were two of the  owners of the ARC. Partners. He was just an investigator on staff.

"First," Sam said, "we look after our own. Second, it's kind of  entertaining watching you fall head over heels." He glanced at Nate.  "We've both been there and done that. I don't know about Nate, but I  didn't realize how stupid I got while I was falling in love with Dana.  You need someone at your back, because you won't be thinking straight."

Nate laughed quietly. "Amen, brother."

James might have opened up and talked about his concerns to Cassie, but  these were the power guys. He couldn't tell them how tenuous his  relationship with Caryn was, or the reason behind it. They would … scoff?  Advise him to just do what he wanted to do, that Kevin would come around  eventually? He didn't want that. He wanted Kevin to come around first,  he thought, as Sergeant Hal Bodine walked in and set a folder on the  table in front of James. He remained standing. Pushing fifty, James  decided, and in top physical form.

"I remember everything about this one," Bodine said. "I only brought the  file to show you the photos. The kid, the son of the victim, kept  coming in and cornering me to keep looking for different answers."

James dragged the open file close, angling it so that Sam and Nate could  see it, too. They flipped through the photos. He winced. "Kevin, the  son, he didn't see these, did he?"

Bodine stared at James. "No."

They read and talked about the report-how it had been raining, how a  cement truck had dumped a load the day before right on that curve. "I  figured Brenley started into a slide and never righted it. There was  still some gravel and sand on the road from the cement truck. It was  wet."

"Could it have been hit-and-run?" Sam asked.

Bodine gave an exhausted sigh, as if giving a stock speech he'd given a  dozen times before. "There's not as much evidence with bikes as with  cars. But we can still put facts together. The majority of the damage  was on the left side of the bike, as you can see. He slipped and never  recovered, went over the embankment."