Page 506 of Summer Heat
He stopped in the yard, his back to her. And for one tiny moment, Tamara couldn’t help but admire the picture he made against the gilded sky. His hair, those broad shoulders set in such stiff lines, the almost inhumanly perfect rear end.
Desire, pure and plain, filled her. She pushed it aside, aware that he needed something a lot more satisfying than a roll in the hay. Like maybe a friend. Or a shoulder to cry on.
She ran lightly down the steps and stopped next to him, instinctively reaching out to put her hand on his arm. He flinched. “I’m okay,” he said gruffly.
“Well, if you say so,” Tamara replied with a chuckle. “But if you were in my bar, I’d recommend a good shot of whiskey.”
It worked. He gave her a quick, rueful glance. “I’ve been doing pretty good right up till this minute.” With a rough swipe of his forearm, he rubbed his face. “I guess I’m just tired now. Oughta just get home before I make a total fool of myself.”
His half smile was filled with heartbreaking bravado. For one evening, Tamara could ignore the past, and just live in the present. “I have a better idea,” she said, firmly taking his arm. “I haven’t had any supper, and I was going to make some French onion soup. It doesn’t take long. Why don’t you let me fix you some, too?”
He hesitated.
She tugged a little. “C’mon. Let me repay your kindness to me today.”
He looked at her for a long, silent time, the dark blue eyes filled with hesitance and sorrow and exhaustion. The exhaustion won. “I think I’d like that.”
* * *
True to her promise, the soup took only a half hour. Lance wandered into Cody’s room while she cooked, and she heard them building something out of Lego blocks. Cody had collected the parts for a castle, and he loved to build the tower, with little Lego-men guards on top, but he needed an adult to help him. And much as she liked playing with him, Tamara did not often have time.
Listening to the soft conversation between the man and his son, Tamara wondered again if she were wrong to keep this knowledge from Lance. Whether he had intended to do it or not, he’d planted a child, and that child was bright and warm and wonderful. Especially in light of his very plain grief, perhaps the knowledge that he had a son might ease the sorrow.
Shredding cheese, she frowned. He probably did have a right to know. But if she told him, she’d have to deal with the very real and awkward issues of custody.
As the ramifications of that thought fully penetrated for the first time, the air left Tamara’s lungs. What if Lance, in retribution or anger or even love, took Cody away from her?
She had officially adopted her nephew, but a blood father, especially one who had had no knowledge of the birth of his son, might have a higher claim. Especially a father with as much power as a Forrest commanded in this tightly knit mountain community.
Breathless, she sat down, the cheese grater still in her hands. Shreds of Parmesan drifted over the knees of her jeans and she brushed them off distractedly. How had she never considered this angle before? That Lance Forrest, if he knew, might take her son from her?
A rich, low man-laugh rolled out of the back bedroom, punctuated with the higher giggle of a boy. The sound seemed suddenly ominous to Tamara. To have worked so hard, and given up so much, only to lose him?
No.
To safeguard her interests, she had to talk to a lawyer. She had no idea how she would manage to pay for the services of one, but somehow, she had to find a way. She needed to be prepared, just in case….
In the bedroom, a tower of Lego blocks fell over with a crash, and Cody shrieked with glee. The sound broke into Tamara’s frightened reverie. A smell of scorching onions penetrated and she jumped up to stir them.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed her racing thoughts. Lance Forrest was no more likely to steal Cody away than he was to marry a dowdy spinster. He was footloose and liked it that way. He wouldn’t tie himself down to anything or anyone.
Or at least that’s what she’d always believed. Tonight, looking so broken, she had cause to wonder. Maybe he wasn’t quite the hellion she believed. Maybe his reputation was ill deserved.
Then she thought of Valerie. No, Lance had earned every word of his wild-man reputation.
So he likely wouldn’t take Cody away from her, simply because it would mean tying himself down.
But sooner or later, Lance was bound to put two and two together and remember that Tamara was Valerie’s cousin. He’d remember that wild Christmastime affair, and start to wonder. Or she would be in public somewhere, and run into Lance with his nephew Curtis, who was almost a twin of his cousin Cody. Tamara went to great pains to keep Cody out of Louise Forrest’s sight. A grandmother would notice immediately the resemblance between the two boys.
So perhaps, just to be safe, Tamara needed to be clear on her legal rights before she told Lance about his son. Sooner or later, he was going to find out the truth, and it might be best for everyone if he heard the news from her own lips.
After scaring herself silly with thoughts of Lance taking Cody away from her, Tamara regretted her decision to invite him to stay. And yet, he showed no signs of hurrying off. He ate the soup with genuine hunger. When Tamara said she needed to give Cody his bath and get him to bed, hoping Lance would take the hint and leave, he only stood up and started collecting the dishes. “How about if I wash these up for you, then?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she protested. “I know how tired you must be.”
“No trouble,” he said, and walked toward the kitchen.
Tamara gave up. She hurried Cody through his bath, and read him one story, then tucked him in, and rushed back into the kitchen. She would tell him she had to study. That she had—
