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A Man Worth Loving
Kimberly Van Meter
Aubrey Rose can't stand Sammy Halvorsen when they first meet. It's only because she's a sucker for a sweet baby that she agrees to be a nanny to his infant son. She gets that Sammy's in pain, but he's so busy burying his sorrow he's forgotten to be a father. As she comes to know Sammy, however, she starts to fall for him.So how can she make him see that his child needs him? And when he does, will he still need her, too?
“I’m a screwup—always have been
and always will be, I guess.”
Sammy said the words bleakly.
“I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t?” He stared at the ground, unwilling to meet her gaze until she drew his attention by lightly clasping his hand.
“No. We all screw up. It doesn’t define us unless we let it.”
Aubrey squeezed his hand before letting it go. He expelled a short breath and stared out toward the field. “Yeah, well, actions speak louder than words and frankly, I’ve got people lining up to tell me what a jackass I’ve been, so what does that say?”
She smiled. “It says people care about you and know you can do better. People rise to the level of our expectations.”
“And what did people expect of you?” he asked, turning the tables on her.
Dear Reader,
Harlequin Books is celebrating its 60th year in publishing and I’m so proud to be part of this wonderful family. The first Harlequin book I read was A Thousand Roses by Bethany Campbell. I still have it, tucked away in a drawer, and every now and again I take it out and reread it. It’s that good.
Being a published author is a dream come true, from working with my wonderful editor, Johanna Raisanen, to seeing my book on the shelves. And it all started with that first Harlequin novel that found itself in my hands so many years ago.
A Man Worth Loving is my seventh novel published by Harlequin—I hope you enjoy Sammy and Aubrey’s story. Many readers have asked about Sammy Halvorsen, wondering if he was going to get his own story. Well, here it is. Probably not what was expected, but I think you’ll enjoy it.
Hearing from readers is one of my greatest joys (aside from really good chocolate), so don’t be shy. Feel free to drop me a line at my Web site, www. kimberlyvanmeter.com, or through snail mail at P.O. Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.
Happy reading,
Kimberly Van Meter
A Man Worth Loving
Kimberly Van Meter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An avid reader since before she can remember, Kimberly Van Meter started her writing career at the age of sixteen when she finished her first novel, typing late nights and early mornings on her mother’s portable typewriter. Although that first novel was nothing short of literary mud, with each successive piece of work her writing improved, to the point of reaching that coveted published status.
Kimberly, now a journalist, and her husband and three kids make their home in Oakdale, California. She enjoys writing, reading, photography and drinking hot chocolate by the windowsill when it rains.
Love is a gift we all deserve. This book is dedicated
to anyone who’s ever had their heart broken in the
worst way, yet found the courage to love again.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
THERE WAS A TIME WHEN SOME might’ve said that Sammy Halvorsen lived a charmed life, but—as Sammy cracked his eyelids open and squinted against the harsh sunlight, the taste of last night’s party still on his tongue—those days were definitely over.
Those days ended exactly six months, sixteen days and four hours ago.
Dragging a hand across the scruff of his cheeks to wipe at his mouth, he struggled to a sitting position on the sofa just in time to hear his front door opening. He groaned silently. He’d forgotten—or maybe he’d just blocked it out of his mind—that his mother was coming with a friend to discuss something he had no interest in discussing.
“Samuel?” His mother’s sharp query clanged in his head and set off a riot of pain that would gain no sympathy from Mary Halvorsen simply for the reasons he was hurting. Tying one on didn’t rate on Mary’s Sympathy-O-Meter; neither did anything Sammy was doing these days. And Sammy didn’t have the energy to argue the fact with her.
“In here,” he answered with a scratch in his throat. He cleared it and tried again. “In the living room, Ma.”
She appeared in the doorway and the smile on her face froze when she took in his appearance. Deep disappointment or anger—he wasn’t really sure but neither boded well for him—flashed in her expression, but he was too hungover to try and charm his way back into her good graces. Everything these days took too much effort. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and then gestured to the sofa. “Can I get you some coffee or something?” he asked, pulling himself up to walk with an unsteady gait to the small kitchen.
“Coffee would be fine, Samuel,” Mary said.
Sammy swayed when he reached for the dark roast blend, grimacing as the world tilted on its axis and he nearly lost whatever was souring his stomach. That would not go over well, he thought with dark humor. “Anything for your friend?” he asked, once he’d finally noticed the petite blonde standing beside his mother.
The woman shook her head and, following Mary’s lead, gingerly took a seat on the sofa where previously Sammy had crashed for the night, too drunk to even make it down the short hallway to his bed.
Sammy could hear murmured conversation between the two as he filled the coffeemaker and set it to brew. He wondered why he’d agreed to this meeting. Right now he was just wishing they’d go away so he could return to that blissful sleep of the inebriated. But, as he returned with two full mugs, one for his mom and one for himself, he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none.
This was an intervention Mary Halvorsen-style, and it would take more than his discomfort to sway her from her mission.
“Maybe we should come back another time,” the woman suggested, as if reading Sammy’s mind. He lifted his mug to her and cracked a grin but it must’ve come out looking more like a grimace, for she didn’t respond favorably. “You don’t seem…well.”
“He’s hungover,” Mary said before Sammy could answer, and he frowned. “Too bad for him, I say. I didn’t rearrange my schedule to accommodate this meeting just to reschedule because my son doesn’t have a lick of sense in his fool head these days.” She speared Sammy with a short look as she asked pointedly, “Where’s Ian?”
At the mention of his son’s name, Sammy took another bracing sip of his coffee and zeroed in on a dust bunny on the floor. “With Annabelle and Dean. I forgot about today. I needed to go out last night.”
“What you need is a nanny. Someone who can help you take care of Ian. It’s not fair to Dean and Annabelle to keep shouldering your responsibility when they have a little one of their own. This has gone on long enough, Samuel.”
Sammy couldn’t respond to that. He knew she was right, but inside his chest was a useless shell where his heart used to be, and he had nothing left for his young son. It hurt just to look at the kid. If it hadn’t been for him, Dana would still be here. Sammy blinked back the wave of shame that followed and finished his coffee in two scalding swallows.
“What’s your name?” he asked the woman.
“Aubrey…Aubrey Rose. I just want to say that I’m so sorry for your I—”
“You know much about kids?”
She started at the interruption. “Well, I was an au pair during college and I did a lot of babysitting when I was a kid.”
“What the hell is an au pair?”
“It’s another word for nanny, used mostly in Europe. I spent a year in Italy…. Anyway, yes, to answer your question I have some experience. I’m also CPR and first aid trained.”
“See?” Mary said. “Perfect. More than perfect. And she can start immediately.”
Sammy glanced away. Not perfect. Everything was far from perfect but who was he to belabor the point? It didn’t much matter either way.
He gestured to his mom. “How do you two know each other?”
“We met at the Quilters Brigade,” Mary answered. “And before you open your mouth to say some kind of joke, let me spare you the effort. I am not in a joking sort of mood.”
“Jeez, Ma, lighten up. You’ll scare the young folk,” he said, his mouth curving in a tired grin, but he dropped it quickly enough when his mother’s stare narrowed. She wasn’t kidding. “So the Quilters Brigade…”
Aubrey shrugged. “It’s a relaxing hobby and I usually donate the piece when I’m finished.”
“Not from around here, I take it?”
“No. I’m a transplant, as Mary calls it.”
“Yeah,” he said, trying hard not to remember that Dana had been an outsider, too. He swallowed and looked away. “I guess you’ll do well enough. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about babies so you’re already more qualified than me to take care of him.” And that fact sliced him to the bone every single day.
AUBREY SHOULD’VE KNOWN this wasn’t going to work out. What had she been thinking? She slanted a look at Mary, realizing that the older woman hadn’t been entirely honest about her son’s situation. This was more than a widower needing help with his infant son. This man was a train wreck. And she wasn’t interested in hitching a ride. She had enough baggage to sink the Titanic. She didn’t need this guy’s, as well.
Aubrey gathered her purse, ready to leave when the front door opened and a curvy redhead walked in cradling a bundle against her shoulder. “Sorry, Sammy, but something came up and I had to bring Ian home. I know you said you’d come by later but…Oh! I’m interrupting. Mary said you were interviewing a nanny. I’m so sorry. You must be Aubrey?”
Aubrey nodded and the woman continued in a rush, gently dropping a full diaper bag to the floor and bringing the baby to his father, which by the expression on his face was about as pleasurable as having a nail pounded into his foot. He held the child awkwardly, almost away from his body so as to limit contact, and was quick to hand the child to his grandmother, who immediately started snuggling the boy. “I’m Annabelle,” she said. “Nice to meet you. You’re going to love Ian. He’s the sweetest baby. Mary, I’ll see you later?”
“Eight o’clock. Bring Jasmine. I haven’t had my granddaughter fix in two days.”
“Will do. Oh, one more thing, there are a few preprepared bottles in the diaper bag that need to go into the fridge right away. Okay, bye!”
In a blink, Annabelle was gone again but Sammy had hardly registered her presence after she’d put the baby in his arms.
Even as Mary continued to lavish the child with whispered endearments, Aubrey caught a look so full of anguish in Sammy’s eyes that for a moment her own heart spasmed. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that dull, empty stare that said I care about nothing and no one so don’t even try, and Aubrey knew taking this job would be a mistake.
She opened her mouth with the intent to decline but Mary took that moment to place the baby in her arms. As Aubrey held that soft body she felt an echo of an old pain that never truly healed no matter how many years she put between it and herself. Babies. She loved them. Truly and deeply. All sorts, all kinds. They were her Achilles’ heel. And it was the cruelest of ironies that she would never bear one.
“Aubrey, meet Ian Samuel Halvorsen. Isn’t he a doll?”
Aubrey nodded. About that part, Mary hadn’t lied. This child was beautiful with a full head of dark hair, porcelain skin and a rosebud mouth that was nearly too pretty for a boy. In fact, if he hadn’t been decked out in a sleeper with airplanes on it and gripping a blue blanket it might’ve been hard to tell his gender. But then again, babies at this age were sometimes hard to tell anyway. She couldn’t resist bending down to inhale that sweet intoxicating baby scent and knew even as she did so, walking away was going to be difficult.
“He’s beautiful,” Aubrey said softly, a slow but reluctant smile forming on her mouth. “Does he look like his mother?”
“The spitting image,” Sammy choked out before leaving the room on legs so stiff it looked as if his back might crack from the pressure.
Oh, Lord. That man was drowning. It didn’t take a degree in psychology to see that and Aubrey knew from firsthand experience that drowning people often took down the people trying to save them. She hadn’t put her life back together only to have it torn apart again by someone else.
Aubrey handed Ian back to his grandmother. “Mary, I like you and I appreciate the opportunity you’ve offered me but I think this job is more than I can handle.”
After a moment, Mary said, “Ian needs you, Aubrey.”
“Me? Why me?”
“I’m going to level with you because I get the feeling that you can see right through bullshit and I’m not going to waste your time feeding you any. I’m too old to be raising my grandchild, and my other two sons are busy trying to raise their own families. Annabelle is wearing herself out trying to do everything for Sammy because Dana was her best friend and that’s how she deals with her own grief. But Sammy needs to start bonding with his son. He can’t do that if he has too many people picking up the slack for him and that’s what’s been happening since Dana died.”
“How is hiring a nanny going to help him with that?”
“It will allow him to break in slowly.” Mary inhaled softly as she touched Ian’s downy cheek. “He loves his boy. He just doesn’t want to right now.”
Aubrey shook her head, her gut instinct telling her to stick with her initial decision and decline, but she was secretly horrified at the idea of leaving the baby to his father’s emotional void. Babies needed love and affection to grow and thrive. She doubted Samuel Halvorsen was capable of that right now. So where did that leave Ian? You can’t save every child, a voice warned. No, but she could at least help this child for a short while. No one said she had to get emotionally involved. And no one said she had to stay forever.
