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“Jill?” That unwanted protective male instinct, the one only Jill aroused, had reawakened. Vince wiped his palms, still warm from touching her, against his trousers and stepped away.
“I’m fine,” Jill repeated, hefting one end of the sawhorse and dragging it toward the open shed behind the garage. “I’m not supporting your casino.”
“I haven’t asked you to,” Vince snapped, taking the other end of the sawhorse and examining her face, hoping to find a reason for his old obsession.
Jill stumbled under his scrutiny, but kept walking backward.
On the first day of kindergarten Jill had stuck up for Vince in front of a teacher, and he’d contracted a bad case of puppy love that continued through childhood only to fizzle out less than a year after their wedding day. She was pretty enough, but no longer his type. He liked his women pouty and aggressive in bed, women who didn’t mind that he wore a wedding ring and wasn’t interested in anything long-term. Vince took note of how high up Jill had buttoned her flannel shirt.
Nope. He was definitely over her.
“Just so you know,” Jill said woodenly, “people come here to get away from it all. Having a casino at the turnoff to Shady Oak doesn’t exactly reinforce that feeling of peaceful solitude.”
Vince didn’t want to talk about the casino. “The two can coexist.”
“Not on my mountain.” Taking baby steps, Jill led him into the gloomy, crowded shed. Once the sawhorse was on the floor and the only barrier between Jill and the door was Vince, she froze, watching her husband from the shadows as if scared of him.
Of him. As if he’d been the one who attacked her. Could the day get any worse? Vince stubbornly refused to move, waiting for Jill to show some backbone. “I don’t think you own the entire mountain.”
“No.” She still didn’t move.
They stared at each other in silence for several seconds more.
With a sigh, Vince backed out of the shed and into the boy.
Craig’s son.
The vivid blue eyes and reddish-brown hair were Jill’s. Try as he might, Vince couldn’t see anything in this kid of the solidly built, blond mama’s boy who’d date-raped Jill.
“Who are you?” the kid asked.
“Vince Patrizio.” Vince offered his hand and took the opportunity to lead the boy back to the garage.
The smell of new wood permeated the crisp mountain air. From what he could see, Shady Oak was a replica of an old Western town. There were small bungalows with covered plank porches and wooden rocking chairs. The garage was painted to look like a red barn. A two-story 1800s-style building with a sign across large double doors proclaimed it to be Edda Mae’s Dining Emporium. The entire place would have looked like a kids’ movie set, except there was no landscaping, just dirt and pine trees.
“I’m Teddy Patrizio. We have the same last name.” Teddy cast a questioning sideways glance at Vince.
Vince was only half listening, still thinking about Jill’s Western corporate retreat, a concept very similar to the themed casinos in Vegas. “It’s a good last name. It’s Italian. I’m happy to share it.”
Jill hurried past, picking up a tool chest on her way to the front of the garage. Wearing boot-cut jeans, her legs looked long and Vince found it hard not to follow her every move with his eyes until he realized he had an audience.
Another sidelong stare from the boy. This one appraising. “I don’t look anything like you.”
“Teddy!” Jill turned at the corner of the building, her voice giving away her distress.
The kid leaned closer to Vince and whispered, “I know who you are.”
Premonition prickled the hair on the back of Vince’s neck and he found himself bending lower.
“Theodore Tatum Patrizio!” Jill’s gaze collided with Vince’s, a plea for help in her eyes, but Vince didn’t understand what she needed.
And it was suddenly important that Vince knew who her son thought he was.
“You’re Batman.” Teddy smirked at Vince, then winked at his mother. “Right, Mom?”
“Teddy.” Jill shook her head, looking incredibly relieved. “That wasn’t funny.”
“You’ve lost me,” Vince said.
“It was a joke.” All traces of humor gone, Teddy knelt and picked up a paintbrush as his mother disappeared into the garage. “You’re not my dad,” the boy said in a dejected voice after a few brush strokes.
Vince hadn’t expected such honesty from one so young. “No, I’m not.”
“But you’re related to me.”
Watching them, Jill hesitated at the corner of the garage.
“Well, I married—”
“Vince, no!”
“—your mother.”
“You are my dad. I knew it.” Teddy jumped up, tossed the paintbrush on a scrap of newspaper and flung his arms around Vince.
His palm landed awkwardly on top of Teddy’s soft auburn hair.
“Teddy. Teddy, let go, baby.” Jill was at Vince’s feet, pulling Teddy back to her. But the boy only clung tighter to Vince. “Teddy, he’s not your father.” Jill skewered Vince with a look.
“But you’re married.” The boy stared at his mother with eyes suddenly welling with tears.
Jill shook her head and drew Teddy away from Vince.
“But—”
“Your father didn’t want…” Jill’s voice trailed off and she looked at Vince helplessly.
Teddy cut a quick glance in Vince’s direction. “You didn’t want me?”
“Dad, I’ll be good. I promise. Don’t leave.” Trying not to cry, Vince blocked the door. But his father was bigger and stronger and had no trouble easing Vince aside. Had no trouble leaving without looking back.
“I always wanted you.” On impulse Vince put a hand on Teddy’s skinny shoulder. He’d been ready to take on the responsibility of fatherhood and give this boy the love he deserved. When he’d asked Jill to marry him he’d told her that everyone deserved to be loved, even a baby you hadn’t counted on.
“Vince, don’t build his hopes,” Jill warned.
Teddy wiped tears from his cheeks and gazed up at Vince reverently. In that moment, Vince would have done anything for the kid.
“You always think things are more complicated than they are,” Vince said softly, unable to take his eyes off Teddy.
“And you always believe you’ve found the best and only solution.”
Vince scowled and stared pointedly at his ring on her left hand. “You married me, didn’t you?” He hadn’t noticed the ring before and wondered why it was still there. There was no way she wore it for the same reason he did.
“So…are you my dad?” Teddy broke in, his bottom lip trembling as he looked from Jill to Vince.
The truth would take some of the shine out of the kid’s eyes and Vince was reluctant to do it. But the truth had to be said. “No.”
Jill spread her arms and Teddy filled them. Vince’s urge to drop to his knees and be a part of that embrace was surprisingly strong.
“Your father wasn’t ready to be a dad, Teddy. But from the moment I saw you, Teddy, I loved you.” Jill’s expression was fierce, kindling an ache in Vince’s chest. No one had ever claimed to feel that way about him. “I wanted you, Teddy. I was willing to do anything to protect you, even marry someone else, someone other than your dad, and move up here.”
Vince had been reduced to nothing more than a “someone else” in her life, not even a friend. If that wasn’t his cue to leave Vince didn’t know what was. But first he had to find out why Jill was against the casino. He needed as much support as he could get.
“But he’s here now.” His voice high-pitched and desperate, Teddy pointed at Vince. “He’s here and he could be my dad.”
Dad. This boy thought he was father material. Vince wouldn’t know how or where to begin to be a father. His own had given up on him after fourteen years. Still…
“He can’t be your dad,” Jill was saying.
“Wait a minute,” Vince said, causing Teddy to beam, which in turn made Vince’s heart swell—this little boy wanted him for a dad!
“A father is there for you every day, in every way. Vince lives in Las Vegas.”
“Oh.” Vince and Teddy were simultaneously brought crashing back to earth. Vince realized his toes were cold. Who was he kidding? No way was he father material.
Teddy wiped his face with his hands and then stood dejectedly, shifting on his long, skinny feet.
Jill kissed Teddy’s cheek. “I think we’ve done enough painting for one night. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get yourself some ice cream?”
“Three scoops?” Teddy sniffed, sneaking a glance at Vince.
“Two.” Jill wrapped her arms around the kid, only releasing him when he squirmed free. “I’ll be up soon to tuck you in.”
Teddy shuffled across the gravel driveway to a covered staircase. Vince’s anger grew with each step Teddy took as he climbed to the second story, but he held it in check until a door clicked closed.
“It’s been more than ten years, Jill. You haven’t told him anything about me.”
Jill jerked her head as if in shock, sending her auburn ponytail cascading over one shoulder. “You’re not his father, Vince.”
“But I am your husband.” Not that he knew what that meant. Vince rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t come here to reclaim his wife. Vince should just slide back into the leather seat of his Porsche and instruct his attorney to draw up the divorce papers. He reached in his pocket for his car keys, but couldn’t seem to pull them out. “I told you when I asked you to marry me that I’d love your baby as if he were my own.”
“I know.” Jill looked away and lowered her voice. “Teddy’s been without a father for ten years because of me. I had some hard choices to make, but I’m willing to live with them.” And then she did look at him, squaring her shoulders. “Besides, you only came now because a business deal made it convenient. I don’t expect you to step into the fatherhood role after all this time.”
“Then what do you expect?” But Vince knew. Money. He flexed his fingers. It always came down to money, and Arnie had mentioned her buying this place. Shady Oak couldn’t have been cheap. “We’re still married. My family made a deal with yours. It’s been quite profitable.” Vince glared at Jill. They hadn’t signed a prenuptial agreement.
“How dare you imply—”
“How dare you leave me!” Vince lost the struggle with his temper. “You got what you wanted—a name to legitimize Teddy—and I’ve let you keep it all these years, no questions asked. Well, now you can damn well answer a few of them.”
CHAPTER THREE
“PLEASE DON’T YELL.” Jill felt Vince’s anger pulse over her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hurt him back then.
And yet she couldn’t tell him the real reason she’d left, because Vince was nothing like the memory of the man she’d carried with her all these years. He wasn’t patient. He wasn’t kind. He didn’t…
He’d never understand, and she’d had enough dreams shattered for one day.
Ignoring the way the cool air had her shivering, Jill turned her back on Vince and picked up Teddy’s paintbrush. There were two more boards to paint.
“I’m sorry,” Vince said after several seconds sounding anything but. He sighed.
Jill tried to ignore him. First thing tomorrow she’d spray-paint two powerful words on all of the signs. By the afternoon she’d have them up all over town and then she could make the guest beds, hang the linens and stock the rooms with toiletries in preparation for a new group of clients checking in Sunday afternoon.
And Vince—both the real and her fantasy version—would most likely be gone.
A pang of loneliness settled in her bones.
Of course, it could have been the cold. It was quite nippy now.
Vince’s Italian loafers moved closer as Jill splashed a curve of purple jerkily across the board. But Vince said nothing, and then his feet disappeared. A car door opened and closed.
Jill’s shoulders sagged. The Vince she’d fashioned over the years wouldn’t have let the conversation end, wouldn’t have left. He’d have stayed and faced the situation head-on.
“What kind of crazy stuff are they assigning school-kids nowadays?” Vince crouched next to Jill and picked up the other paintbrush. He’d taken off his expensive jacket and tucked his tie in the placket of his shirt.
“It’s…um…crazy.” Jill repressed the urge to smile. If the man didn’t have enough sense to leave she wasn’t going to tell him he was helping the opposition. Smooth and graceful, his line of green more closely resembled Teddy’s style than hers. It was only guilt that made her admit, “You’re good with a brush.”
Vince flashed her the smile he’d given the tribal council.
“But this isn’t rocket science, so I’m not impressed.” Jill went back to her own stiff lines as the wind rustled through the branches above them. The storm that was supposed to pass through during the night was building. The road to Mokelumne was tricky enough in daylight. Add darkness and rain and it was dangerous. “You’re not Monet. You can paint faster.”
“I don’t think Teddy would appreciate something just thrown together.”
“You’d be surprised.”
A faint roll of thunder sounded in the distance. The boards were on the east side of the garage sheltered by an overhang. They’d be protected tonight. If Vince didn’t leave soon, Jill wouldn’t be.
“Switch brushes.” Jill dipped her brush in purple and handed the dripping mess to him.
Vince was more meticulous in his pass-off. The green didn’t so much as dribble off the brush when he gave it to her, reminding Jill how graceful he was. She’d always struggled to be the polished sophisticate, while he could carry off class in worn jeans and a T-shirt. He was probably an accomplished lover, too.
“You’re smearing the paint,” Vince pointed out. “You’ve got a big black blotch where the green and purple mix. Why don’t you turn that one over and start again?”
It was on the tip of Jill’s tongue to tell Vince the blotches didn’t matter. By tomorrow there’d be something covering up her sloppy work. “This will do.”
“Here. I’ll fix it.” Vince edged closer, reaching his arms in front of her so that he could pick up her board. Long arms, long fingers, long—
“It’s fine.” That self-preservation kicked in again. No longer cold, Jill elbowed Vince back into his own space, sending a glob of green paint flying onto one of his fine Italian-leather shoes. She snatched up a scrap of newspaper and tried to wipe the goop off, but the paint had already soaked into the leather, leaving a dime-size mark.
