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He lifted his gaze to the reflection in the window. Honey stood just inside the door, her glorious hair cascading over shoulders left bare by the spaghetti straps of a cornflower-blue sundress, her face devoid of makeup. Some women had to be groomed to the teeth to be classified as beautiful. Not Honey. She’d been blessed with natural beauty. In Matt’s view, even though she had a heart as black as the night, no other woman could compare to her.
An image of her in bed last night flashed through his mind. His body stirred in response. To his utter annoyance, an overwhelming urge to touch her again, feel her silky flesh under his callused fingertips, burned through him.
“Hello, Matt.” Her voice seemed to come from a distance, but the sound danced up his spine. She glanced quickly around the room. “You’re alone?”
He took a fortifying sip of his coffee to wash down the knot that clogged his throat, while stalling for time to get his traitorous body back in line. Then he slowly turned to face her. “Honey, seems you and I are the only early risers around here. Oh, and of course, Tess. But then you always were up and out with the birds.”
Honey felt the barb of his words bite deep. She knew he referred to the nights they’d spent making love and the mornings she’d dressed and dashed home before her father awoke.
Not ready to exchange unpleasantries with Matt, she went to the mahogany sideboard, poured herself a cup of strong, black coffee, then took a seat at the opposite end of the table, as far from him as she could get without moving into the kitchen.
“Amanda sends her apologies. She’s feeling tired this morning and wanted to sleep a bit longer. Normally, she’d be down here before anyone.”
He sat a bit straighter, his eyes showing his concern. “She’s not sick or anything, is she?”
Honey shook her head, the sound of his voice doing strange things to her ability to speak. Beneath the table, she placed her palms firmly on her legs to stop them from shaking. Despite all her pep talks to prepare herself, the sight of Matt by daylight had a stronger effect on her than she’d anticipated. But that unguarded moment had passed, and now she had her control back…or so she thought until she looked at him again.
Basically, he looked the same, but his work-toughened, solid biceps straining at the short sleeves of his blue shirt were not those of the twenty-seven-year-old who had held her close. Nor had his skin been quite that shade of warm, golden brown back then. His eyes drew her attention. While still strikingly blue, they contained a sadness, an emptiness that she’d never seen in them before.
As if aware of her discovery, he blinked, then turned back to the window, effectively dismissing her presence and hiding his feelings behind a blank wall. Nothing new there. In all the time they’d been together, Honey knew surprisingly little of Matt. Obviously, he planned on keeping it that way. And that was fine by her.
She adroitly avoided thinking about the hours they’d spent making love and saying little.
A puddle of sunlight bathed him, glinting in blue-black flames off his ebony hair. She swallowed hard and clenched her fists to still the itch that had invaded her fingers. She’d once taken great pleasure in caressing the silky strands and teasing him about being blessed with such beautiful hair, when so many women would have killed for it.
The sound of pots clattering in the kitchen brought her out of her sensual haze. She straightened and picked up her coffee to give her something to do with her hands. “Amanda tells me you’re going to be living in your father’s place.”
“My place,” he corrected crisply. Without even glancing her way, he stood, walked to the sideboard and refilled his coffee cup from the silver pot.
As he headed back to his chair, the scent of his musky aftershave wafted to Honey. She held her breath until he was reseated. This simple act provided her with a distraction that kept her gaze from wandering to his tight posterior.
Finally, she could force words past her trembling lips. “Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s my place.”
“Oh? I wasn’t aware of a distinction.”
Ignoring her, he turned his attention beyond the windows again.
Honey glanced toward the stairs, then checked her watch. The tingle on the back of her neck told her exactly when his attention swung back to her.
“Am I keeping you from something important?”
She looked at him, but before she could answer, he turned away again, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Miffed at being ignored, she met his sarcasm head-on. She glared at him, relieved at the appearance of an emotion she could count on, could control. “No. My son’s bus will—”
His dark gaze snapped to her. “Son? You and Stan had a son?”
She frowned. “You didn’t know?” She’d been so certain someone would have told him. Why hadn’t Amanda mentioned her beloved grandson? She had never been reticent before about expounding on his virtues to anyone she could corner into listening. Why not Matt?
He turned toward her, his expression interested and definitely accusing. “No. Apparently no one thought it important enough to mention to me.”
His words bit deep into her conscience, making her react defensively. “Maybe because no one knew where you were.” She could have bitten off her tongue. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to spar with you, Matt.”
He set his coffee cup forcefully on the table, rose and strode to her side. She had barely enough time to notice his slight limp. Placing both palms on the mahogany tabletop, he leaned down till their eyes were level.
“Oh yes, you damned well do, lady. You want to demand answers and rip my head off. Well, I have my own list of questions, Honey. Like why did you marry Stan before I’d passed the town limits?”
She drew in a deep breath and stared into his cold, angry eyes. Why did he care? Determinedly, she vowed that nothing would make her fall apart now, not even his intimidating tactics. She stood, pushing her chair back so roughly that it nearly tumbled over. Her hand shot out to catch it. “That didn’t concern you seven years ago, and it’s none of your business now.”
She started to walk away, but he grabbed her upper arms and swung her around to face him. “I think it is my business.”
She struggled to free herself, not because he held her too tightly, but because his touch drained her energy to fight him. And she needed to fight him with all of the inner strength she had. That became more apparent with each passing moment. If she wanted to survive this, she had to fight. “Well, think again.”
Then she made the mistake of making eye contact with him. The old magnetism that had drawn her to him to begin with reared its ugly head, holding her paralyzed in Matt’s gaze. All rational thought vanished.
Matt could feel the heat of her skin burning into his palms. Touching her had been a stupid move. But he couldn’t let go. No matter how hard he willed himself to do it, he could not let Honey go. For what seemed like hours they just stood there, eyes burning, chests heaving. In anger or in renewal of an old passion? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
What he did know was that if he didn’t let her go in the next ten seconds, he’d press his lips against that sugar-sweet mouth of hers and kiss her to within an inch of her life.
That realization made him abruptly release her.
For a moment more she stood there staring at him, as if trying to find her center of balance. Then she took an unsteady step backward, one hand reaching blindly for her discarded chair, the other clutching her throat. Her chest rose and fell quickly, pressing her breasts against the thin fabric of her sundress.
“M-M-Mom?”
In unison they turned toward the doorway. Honey heard the catch in Matt’s breath. She forced her lips to curve in a smile and made her feet move to stand beside her son. “Danny, this is your dad’s cousin, your…Uncle Matt.” The control in her voice astounded her.
She waited, her breath imprisoned in her burning lungs. She watched as Matt’s gaze traveled slowly over features so like his own, and nothing like hers or Stan’s blond hair and fair skin. Did he recognize his son? Except for a twitch on the right side of his lips, he kept his emotions hidden behind an enigmatic mask.
“Shake Uncle Matt’s hand,” she forced herself to say.
“How d-d-do you d-d-do?” Danny extended his small hand.
Matt took it, his gaze never leaving the child’s face. When Matt smiled, she finally exhaled the trapped air.
“How do you do? I’m so glad to meet you.”
“W-w-why?” Danny let go of Matt’s hand.
Matt’s eyes widened, as if he was shocked by Danny’s question. He squatted down to be on the boy’s level. “Well, because your…dad and I were great friends, and I hope we can be, too.” His gaze shifted to Honey with a burning look so intense, she knew she’d counted herself safe too soon. He knew.
She looked away. “Danny, you need to get your breakfast, sweetie. The school bus will be here in a few minutes. You don’t want to be late for school on the first day of rehearsal.”
Matt stood. “Rehearsal?”
“For my s-s-school play.” Danny explained. “M-M-Mom wants m-m-me to be in it, b-b-but I—”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” Matt raised his eyebrows, as if in surprise. Before Honey could do it, Matt poured milk on the bowl of oat cereal dotted with tiny technicolor marshmallow stars and moons, then carried it to Danny’s place.
Danny lowered his gaze to the table. “The k-k-kids will l-l-laugh at me.”
Matt took his seat and centered his full attention on Danny. “Why would they do that?”
Honey couldn’t believe he’d asked such a question. Wasn’t it obvious Danny had a problem? Why underline it by making him explain? She stepped forward to intercede for her son.
“Because I t-t-talk funny.”
Frowning, Matt leaned back in his chair. “Do you? I hadn’t noticed. What’s funny about the way you talk?”
“That’s enough, Matt!” Honey couldn’t stand to see Danny put through this.
“It’s okay, M-M-Mom. I can tell h-h-him.”
For a moment, Honey hesitated. Then she saw Danny smile at Matt. He usually didn’t talk to strangers. This was a first. “If it’s okay with you. But you don’t have to explain to anyone,” she stated.
The boy glanced at her. “I kn-kn-know.” The empty spot left by the tooth he’d lost last week winked up at her. Then he looked back to Matt. “I stutter.”
Matt’s brows dipped deeper. “Hmm. You didn’t stutter just then. Are you sure you stutter?”
Danny laughed out loud. Honey hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d heard her son’s unbridled laughter. He took a big spoonful of cereal and chewed. Milk dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He caught it with his fist, then went back to eating his cereal.
“Use your napkin, Danny.” She handed him the white linen square.
“So, tell me about this play. What’s your part?”
Danny swallowed. “A t-t-tomato.”
As Danny expanded on his debut into the world of “Farmer Jones’s Vegetable Garden,” Matt listened raptly to every word.
Honey suddenly felt invisible. And she wasn’t at all sure she liked that feeling. In fact, she knew she didn’t.
Danny had just finished relating the play’s grand climax, describing how all the vegetables came on stage for their final bow, when a horn sounded out front.
“Danny, the bus is here. You can tell Uncle Matt more later.”
Jumping up, Danny grabbed his knapsack and turned back to Matt. “You’ll be h-h-here when I g-g-get home?”
“Right here,” Matt assured him, then smiled a smile that Honey hadn’t seen in over seven years.
Danny beamed from ear to ear, first at Matt, then at his mother. It was like looking at a smaller version of Matt. For the second time that morning, she needed the chair for stability.
Glad for an excuse to escape Matt and his smothering charm, she walked Danny to the door and down the front steps of the house. She leaned down and straightened his collar while offering her cheek for a goodbye kiss. With a sigh and rolling eyes, he obliged, leaving a milk smear on her skin. As she straightened and wiped it off, she noted Danny waving to the dining room windows. Turning, she found Matt, curtain pulled back, watching Danny climb aboard the yellow-and-black bus.
MATT NEVER TOOK HIS EYES off the bus as it moved down the driveway, the sound of exuberant children’s voices spilling from the open windows.
“My son.” The words slipped from his lips experimentally.
Suddenly, a gut-wrenching ache seized him. The pain nearly doubled him over. He’d missed six years of Danny’s life. She’d stolen it from him, and he could never, ever get it back. He curled his hands into fists and drove one against the window frame to still the agony that sliced through his chest and ate deep into his heart.
He wanted to go after Honey and demand to know why she’d never told him, but he was afraid of what he’d do. Instead, he took deep breaths until the ache eased and he could stand upright again. Through the curtain, he could see Honey, her back to him, her gazed centered on the spot where the bus carrying their son had last been visible through the line of red oaks bordering the drive.
How could a woman he remembered as being sweet and sensitive have done something so cruel? Then he recalled how, seven years ago, she’d professed to love him, then barely waited for him to clear the town line before she’d married his best friend and cousin. Sweet and sensitive hardly fit Honey Kingston.
His mouth set in a grim line of determination, Matt strode from the room, determined to learn the truth. His angry steps ate up the distance between him and the woman who had betrayed him, not once, but twice, and in the cruelest way possible.
Careful not to alarm her of his approach, he walked up behind her, then laid his hand on her shoulder. When she seemed to ignore him, he spun her to face him.
“Come inside. We need to talk…about our son.”
Chapter Three
Honey looked around Amanda’s large, Victorian living room. Almost two years ago, this room had held her sister, Emily, Honey’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, Kat, and all their wedding guests. Now the same room suddenly seemed much too small to hold just Honey, an irate Matt and all the unanswered questions hanging in the air about the small boy who’d just climbed on the school bus.
Honey glanced cautiously at Matt. Though she’d known that she’d have to deal with this issue from the moment Amanda had announced that Matt would be coming to live with them, she’d fought against it. Now she couldn’t sidestep it any longer. Oddly, the idea of finally letting go of her secrets almost came as a relief. She’d only held on to them to protect Danny and his grandmother from heartache.
Logically, despite the fact that Matt had walked out on her, he had not walked out on their son, since he had no knowledge of his existence. Although her personal opinion of Matt Logan wouldn’t win him any awards, deep down, she knew he would not have deserted Danny had he been given the choice. And Danny should not be deprived of his father’s love because she and Matt had their problems, problems that in no way involved Danny. However, even after she divulged all that Matt would demand he be told, there was one more stumbling block that she knew Matt wasn’t going to be happy about.
Whether she liked it or not, the time had come to do what she’d tried to do seven years ago, and whether or not Matt would believe she’d made that attempt remained to be seen.
Squaring her shoulders, she faced him. “What do you want to know?” Her voice quivered. Damn! She hadn’t wanted to let her apprehension show. She cleared her throat, hoping that he’d read the crack in her voice as physical, rather than emotional.
“Everything. Start at the beginning.” Matt stood just inside the closed door, waiting, one hand on the door frame above his head, the other thrust deep into the pockets of his jeans, pulling the denim tight across the lower front of his body.
Tearing her gaze away from temptation, Honey took a deep breath and swallowed. The trembling in her legs made the need to sit apparent, but she stood, refusing to give him even that much of an edge. She cleared her throat. “You’re right. Danny is yours, not Stan’s.”
Matt cursed softly and covered the space separating them in three long strides. “I hardly needed that confirmed. I have school pictures of me that could easily have been taken of Danny. The kid’s a miniature of me. How long did you expect to keep me in the dark?”
“I didn’t expect any such thing.” She glared at him. This was hard enough without his sarcasm. “Do you want to hear this or not?”
Taking a seat on an overstuffed chair, Matt leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands tightly in front of him, as if by immobilizing them he could harness the anger tightening his shoulder muscles and blazing from his eyes. “Go on. I’m anxious to hear your excuses for keeping my son’s existence from me for almost seven years.”
Grateful for the support of a sturdy piece of furniture, she dropped onto the sofa. “You have no right to judge me on this, Matt. You walked out, not me. I would have told you, if you’d been here.”
Matt leaned back. He couldn’t fight her on that score. Neither could he tell her why he’d walked out. How could he tell her that he’d run like a frightened rabbit because his father thought him a poor excuse for a son, and that loving her scared the hell out of him? Even if he told her, what would it change? She hadn’t cared enough even to wait and see if he’d come back. She’d married Stan and cheated Matt out of his son.
The bottom line was that, unless he wanted to get into the whole thing about his father, something he’d never told anyone, he had no choice but to allow her to think what she would about him. But that didn’t explain why she’d never told him about Danny.
“Did you even try to find me, or did you just figure that you’d trick the first guy with heavy pockets who came along into marrying you, and let him think the kid was his?” Even as the words left his mouth, Matt could have kicked himself for giving his frustration a voice. He knew Honey well enough to know that, if he pushed too hard, she’d close up tighter than a clam.
Bolting to her feet, Honey glared at him. Her hands twisted together, as if she was putting forth a superhuman effort not to slap him. Her furious words confirmed it. “How dare you imply that I tricked Stan or that I married him for money?”
To his utter annoyance, her marriage to Stan infuriated Matt. Dangerous territory, but he couldn’t resist asking the question that had burned itself into his mind all those years ago. “So why did you marry him?”
Honey turned away. “That’s none of your business. We’re discussing Danny, not my reasons for marrying Stan.”
Matt strongly disagreed with her reasoning. The two were so tightly entwined that he couldn’t have pried them apart with a crowbar. But he let that go—for now. Insulting Honey wouldn’t encourage her to tell him about his son and why Matt had been robbed of the first six years of the boy’s life. As hard as it might be, he had to hold back his anger and let Honey talk.
