Sweet Child of Mine

Suzanne reached across the table for his hand. The feel of his skin jolted her, made her very aware of the reality of what she was doing. But she was also deeply grateful. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to leaning on other people. I can’t lean on you. If I could do this alone, I would, but you’re right. It’s a godsend. I don’t want your money, though. It’s enough—more than enough—that you’d do this to help me get back my son.”

She could feel tears threatening, but she couldn’t give in. In the morning they’d probably both decide that the whole idea was insane. But just in case, she had to set the ground rules.

“Separate bedrooms. If my money won’t go far enough, we’ll keep an account. I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll play whatever part is needed to convince your father.” She drew a deep breath. “And no settlement at the end.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You can’t tell me what to do with my money. If I want to set up a college fund for the boy, I’ll damn well do it.”

“You will not—” She exhaled in a gust and fell back against the booth. “This is hopeless. It would be worse for Bobby to go into a home where there’s fighting than to be with Jim’s cousin.”

“I never took you for a quitter,” he said, settling back against the booth. But his eyes bored into her. “It’s not hopeless unless you let it be. Difficult, yes, but not hopeless. We’ll put on a great show in public and give each other wide berth in private.”

“And what will Bobby think? He’ll be there in private with us.”

“We’ll keep things very civil and pleasant. You can restrain yourself enough to do that, right, Suzanne?” His gaze dared her to admit she lacked self-control. “I’ll be good to the boy, I told you that. You’ll give him the love he needs. You’re the expert on children, and you want to raise him alone anyway. If he doesn’t get attached to me, it will make things easier in the long run. But that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.” His smile was wry. “Believe it or not, any number of people seem to think I’m pretty good at being a friend.”

Shame washed over her. He was making her a very generous offer, giving her a path to a dream she’d held so long that it had woven itself into the fiber of her soul. She could have her son back, and all she had to do was to pretend to be happily married to Michael when they were out in public.

He wasn’t an ogre. He never had been. They didn’t see eye to eye on politics, but he’d never been unkind to her. There was more than a little truth in his assessment—she led with her heart, always had. Just because he didn’t wasn’t wrong, it just wasn’t her way.

“What if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if you’re crazy about Bobby and don’t want to let me have him?”

“That—” his voice grew tight “—will not happen.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, Suzanne, if you want me to put it in writing, I will. I don’t want a family. I don’t need one.”

“Why not?” She’d often thought him some sort of Casanova, some perpetual playboy with an Ivy League mind. Now she knew she’d judged him too quickly. There was a story here, and she wanted to know it.

“I had a family I loved very much. They’re gone. End of story.”

She’d heard once that he’d been a widower for years, but no details. “What happened?”

She was shocked to see his eyes hollowed out by grief. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

Shame washed over her again. “I’m sorry, Michael.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away.

There was pain here, and it was deep. Why had she never suspected? He’d perfected his cover, that was why. She had bought the fiction of a man who was everyone’s friend, whose life was a breeze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine. It’s over.”

He was dead wrong. He’d erected barriers fathoms deep and oceans wide, but he hadn’t dealt with his grief, merely buried it.

His demeanor made it abundantly clear that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. And truthfully, he’d just given her the best assurance she could have that he wouldn’t want to claim her son. He had a child of his own who still resided in his heart, alive or not.

She should accept this boon for what it was—a very generous gift. He had reasons to need this marriage and so did she. They were reasonable people. And it was only for a little while. Only temporary. She’d lived with a hole in her heart for ten years. She’d have her child back, the child she’d never quit missing. She could play her part in the charade that would make that possible.

“All right. I think we understand each other and what we need and don’t need, what we want and don’t want. You’ll help me get my son, and I’ll help you make your father happy. As soon as possible, we’ll go our own ways, but in the meantime, we’ll deal together as reasonable people and try to make it as easy on each other as we can. Deal?” She held out her hand.

His mood lightened. His mouth quirked in a grin. “You won’t strain something trying to be reasonable, will you?” He closed his large, warm hand over hers, and she felt the jolt again.

“It depends. Do you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor?”

He laughed then, dimples winking, his even white teeth flashing. For one second, something inside her shivered as his very maleness swamped her.

“No. I have my faults, but that’s not one of them.”

She pulled her hand away, but she could still feel the heat of him buzzing beneath her skin. “Have we lost our minds, trying this?”

“Probably. But let’s do it anyway.” He stood and extended his hand to her. “Walk out with me. We need to get started convincing people that we’re a couple.”

Hesitantly, she slipped her hand in his, let him tug her to her feet.

But he didn’t stop there. He pulled her into his arms and before she could react, lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was quick but lethal. Michael lifted his head and stared at her, his own confusion mirroring hers.

Suzanne knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. The sense of safety in his strong arms was seductive. It felt far better than it should.

Mistake, her mind kept trying to say to her.

But before her voice could catch up, Michael lowered his mouth to hers once more.

And this time it wasn’t quick. It wasn’t casual.

It was more lethal. Devastating. When one arm tightened around her and the other hand slid into her hair, Suzanne felt her legs turn to jelly, her brain overload.

All the fire that had sparked between them in words in the past raced to a four-alarm blaze when they touched. As though they belonged to someone else, her arms slid around his trim waist, her hands sliding over the long muscles of his back, her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.

Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. His powerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.

Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.

Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.

“This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”

She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.

“It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.

Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”

There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.

She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.

One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.

“Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”

She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.