“How romantic.” Bridget gave him a thin smile before her gaze settled back on Dylan. “This arrangement of looking after the baby isn’t going to be permanent, is it?”
“No,” said Connor.
“Yes,” said Victoria, her color high.
Dylan blew a raspberry.
“Well, it sounds like you two have matters to sort out.” Bridget’s carefully plucked eyebrows were nearly up to her hairline. “Please call me at the office later, Victoria. I think we should talk.”
The tension in Victoria’s slim figure only increased with her boss’s departure. As the last of the stragglers drifted out, leaving Connor alone with Victoria … and a sleeping Dylan in his car seat, he said, “Come, it’s been a long day. Time for me to take the two of you home.”
“You know I’m going to have to call the office,” said Victoria.
Work. The funeral barely over and already she was fretting about work.
“All Frigid wants is for you to confirm that the baby won’t interfere with your billable hours.” Connor knew his cynicism was showing.
“Bridget. Her name is Bridget.”
He kept his face deadpan. “I’ve always had a problem with names—you know that.”
“Let it go, Connor.” But her lips twitched.
So she did have a sense of humor. If he hadn’t been watching her carefully he’d have missed that barely perceptible movement.
Outside the sky had turned gray and ominous, promising rain. As they headed toward the row of pines where the Maserati was parked, Connor said, “If Dylan comes to stay with me that will solve all her concerns.”
“No.”
So Victoria was digging in her heels. Connor knew the only way he was going to make her see sense was to be brutal.
“You’ll never be able to raise a boy.” Pausing beside the car, he set the infant seat down and opened the rear door. After securing the infant seat without waking Dylan, he turned back to Victoria and raked his gaze over her, telling her without words that he considered her wanting. “I give you two weeks tops before you surrender.”
For a moment, he thought he’d shaken her. Then she narrowed her pinkened eyes. “You don’t think I can do this? I’m the one who was watching him in the first place!”
Victoria had backbone, he had to give her that. But then, given her career he would’ve expected it. The question was: would she be able to cope all alone with a demanding job and a baby? He doubted it.
Connor took in her hands clenched in front of her br**sts, and the way her mouth trembled. Her crushed-rose lips only emphasized her pallor. She looked too damned fragile.
For a moment he considered sweeping her into his arms, holding her close …
Then he shook the impulse away.
This was Victoria, not some frail butterfly. And she didn’t need anything from him—she’d told him so herself.
He stepped closer to her. “That wasn’t a dare. You don’t need to prove anything to me. All I want is Dylan.” And dammit, that was the truth of it. “Make it easy on yourself, let him stay with me.” That’s what he wanted desperately—what Michael would’ve wanted—his son to stay with him. But he couldn’t say that. He’d already hurt her enough. “You can come and visit as often as you want.”
The gold-green eyes that clashed with his were full of turbulence. “You think I haven’t thought of letting him go to you? But I can’t!”
“Why not?” he challenged.
“Because …” She gnawed at her lip.
“Because?” he prompted, forcing his gaze not to linger on her mouth.
“Don’t ask this of me.” There were shadows in her eyes that went way beyond grief. “I can’t do it.”
“It would be the easy solution.”
She hesitated, clenching and unclenching her hands. “Easy solutions aren’t always right. Suzy and I had been inseparable since we were five. I met her on our first day of school. Did you know that?”
He shook his head.
“She was tiny, like a beautiful, blue-eyed doll. She had blond curls, whereas I had dead straight, mousy hair. I felt so thin and tall next to her—she made me want to look after her.”
Victoria’s eyes had glazed over, and Connor knew she’d forgotten about him, about where they were, about the approaching storm. She was in a place he could not reach.
“We seemed like such opposites. Suzy so social, me so quiet.”
“You were fortunate that your friendship endured for all those years.”
“She was so much more than a friend. More than a sister, even. She was my confidante. My family. The person I trusted more than anyone else in the world when my family let me down.” Her gaze cleared. “I can’t give Dylan up. Don’t ask it of me.”
Connor’s sigh went all the way to his soul. He’d already hurt her beyond belief with his swipe that she hadn’t had time for Suzy before she died. How could he take her last link with her friend away from her? Even though he knew that Michael would’ve wanted Dylan to be with him.
The provision for sharing of guardianship and custody in the will had startled him. Victoria was a working woman who clearly didn’t have time for bringing up a child. What had the Masons been thinking? Suzy must’ve insisted on it, never believing the will would have to be acted on long before Dylan grew to adulthood.
But whatever the will provided for, it was absolutely irrefutable that Suzy’s death had left a vast chasm in Victoria’s life.
Connor drew a deep breath and made the biggest concession of his life. Despite what he believed was the right thing for Dylan—and him, he would go along with the provisions of the will. “Then we’ll have to split the custody—work out which of us gets which days.”
Emotion flashed in her eyes. “How can you even suggest that? It took Dylan almost the whole weekend to settle with me. He’s missing his parents, and now you’re suggesting ripping him away from me.”
“Not ripping,” said Connor firmly. “We’ll share him.”
“And he’s going to know what’s happening?” She shook her head so hard the silken mass of her hair whipped from side to side. “No, he’s not going to understand the terms of a custody arrangement. His parents are gone. Right now everything in his little life is in upheaval. I’m his only constant. How can you yank up the few roots he has left and take him away from me?”
She had a point. He remembered how Dylan had snuggled against her earlier.
“And you can’t take Dylan away from my home. That’s all that’s familiar to him right now. Another change of place is going to unsettle him all over again.”
He tilted his head to one side and replayed her words through his mind—Another change of place is going to unsettle him all over again. “That’s it!”
At his exclamation Victoria stared at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses.
He hit a hand against his forehead. “The answer is simple.”
Chapter Five
“Come on.” Connor held open the door.
Victoria hesitated only for a second. No way was she abandoning Dylan to Connor and the powerful Maserati.
She stepped past Connor, catching a whiff of lemon and male, and settled into the passenger seat. The acreage of leather was seductively plush, and before she could protest Connor had leaned across her and clicked the seat restraint into place, strapping her in.
She’d barely recovered from the jolt to her senses of having him so close when he joined her in the intimacy of the cockpit.
“Ready?”
Victoria nodded, unsure what she was letting herself in for.
The motor roared, and the rich, husky voice of Nina Simone poured from the surround-sound system, silencing even Dylan. Connor’s hands slid over the steering wheel with such tactile pleasure that Victoria had to suppress a groan. A moment later he swung the vehicle out of the churchyard.
The journey passed in a flash. As Connor throttled back the surging engine, Victoria glimpsed through the side window a familiar oak with wide, spreading branches.
What were they doing outside Suzy and Michael’s home?
She struggled impotently to unlock the car door, until—to her immense frustration—Connor strode around and freed her.
Clambering out, she slung her tote over her shoulder and asked, “Why have you brought us here, Connor?”
“Let me get Dylan first.”
Nostalgia welled up as she stared at the Edwardian cottage that had been Suzy and Michael’s home since their marriage—and where she had spent so many happy hours.
She wandered across the sidewalk to the low, white wooden gate.
Dylan had been baptized in this garden. Right there in the arbor tucked into the east side, under the canopy of girly, pale-pink roses. It had been one of the few times she and Connor had visited the house at the same time. As the baby’s godparents they’d been forced to put on a fa?ade of friendship for Michael and Suzy’s sakes.
The gate swung open under her touch. As she stepped onto the winding garden path a gigantic wave of sadness drowned her. The ghosts of Suzy’s laughter and Michael’s slow smiles lurked everywhere. In the pretty pansies that brightened the pots lining the pathway, in the fresh coat of lily-white paint on the shutters and in the shriek of a gull overhead, its wings icy-pale against the darkening sky.
She started as Connor came up beside her.
“Connor, I’m not sure that I’m ready to do this. I don’t think I can even go into the cottage yet.” A tempest of grief was imminent. Only Connor’s presence held the tears in check. “I need time.”
“Look.” Connor swung the baby seat forward. “I think Dylan knows he’s home.”
The baby was cricking his neck, and making gurgling sounds of pleasure.
Sorrow tasted bitter in the back of her mouth. What did poor Dylan know? “It’s not his home anymore,” she choked. “Michael and Suzy are gone.”
And she and Connor were going to have to decide—and agree—what to do with the house.
Michael had done a marvelous job restoring the old cottage—with Suzy and Connor’s help. But the maintenance would be a nightmare. Best to sell it and invest the proceeds for Dylan.
Moisture escaped from the corner of one eye and she quickly brushed it away before Connor could notice.
He swung around. “I’ve been thinking …”
She gave a surreptitious sniff. “What?”
“One of the reasons you felt that Dylan should live with you was because he’s grown accustomed to his surroundings in the past few days.”
“Well, yes …” It looked like she’d gotten through to him. Finally. The first thread of relief started to unwind. She glanced up at him, grateful for his understanding. “It’ll be much better for him than going to your home, which he doesn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t say he doesn’t know it,” Connor objected. “He has been there with his parents. But as you pointed out, it would be much better for him to be in familiar surroundings—like here.”
“Here?” Dismay filled her.
Connor nodded. “This is, after all, his home.”
In the distance thunder growled. Victoria decided that even the weather gods disagreed with Connor.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t live here.” The comforting sense of relief had vanished. There were far too many memories of Suzy and Michael. In every piece of painted wood, every flower. It would kill her to have to live here. “Don’t ask me to do that.”
“I’m not asking you to—I’ll move in. Can’t you see?” He was looking at her as if he expected her to applaud his perspicacity. “You were right, Victoria. And this way I won’t be displacing the baby. He’ll be in familiar surroundings.”
Her own arguments had caused him to come to this conclusion? Her heart started to thud in fear. She was going to lose Dylan after all. “You can’t do this!”
He thrust his hand into his pants pocket and brought out a bunch of keys. “Why not?”
Because Dylan is mine, she thought. But she couldn’t tell him that. She’d promised Suzy she wouldn’t reveal her part in Dylan’s birth.
Oh, dear God.
She tried to get her thoughts straight. Surely Suzy’s death released her from that promise.
Or did it?
She rubbed her fingertips against the sides of her nose. Finally she said thinly, “It’s macabre that you’re thinking of moving into their home when we only buried them today.” Her head started to ache. “Tell me you don’t mean this?”
But Connor was already striding up the path that wound to the wooden front door, keys jangling between his fingers, the handle of the infant seat hooked over his arm.
A splatter of moisture landed on her arm. Victoria glanced up, startled at how dark the sky had grown. She hurried after Connor and grabbed his arm.
He swung around. “Careful, you’ll awaken—”
“I’m not going in there. I’m not.” Barely conscious of the wetness on her cheeks, Victoria tipped her head back and glared at him defiantly.
Connor grew still. His free hand came up and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “You’re crying.”
She ducked her head sideways, dislodging his touch. “I’m not crying. It’s the rain.” It seemed important to convince him of that. To reveal no weakness. Victoria pointed to the sky. “Look how low the clouds are.”
But his gaze didn’t waver from her face, and his eyes softened to the color of mist. “Okay, it’s the rain.”
“It’s going to get worse.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “We can’t stay out here. Dylan will get drenched.” Hunching her shoulders, she threw a haunted glance toward the cottage.