Michael's Father

He was far enough away that she could tell things hadn’t changed between them, but close enough for her to note how his ice-gray eyes stroked impassively over her red dress, down her legs to her pumps and back over her dress…pausing in the area of her cleavage.

Maybe not so impassively.

For once, those ten extra pregnancy pounds she hadn’t shed didn’t seem so bad. With more courage than she had felt moments before, Cori met his gaze.

“Blake Austin, isn’t it?”

Blake’s jaw clenched. Cori allowed herself a small smile, then tossed a hand through her hair for good measure. She was, after all, the woman in red.

“Back for a visit after all this time?”

The bravado drained out of her. “You know why I’m back,” she replied flatly.

Blake glanced toward the house, then pinned Cori with his chilling eyes.

“She needs people around her to be strong.”

“And you think I’m not.” Smoothing her dress with her hands, Cori tried to hide the tremor of apprehension that made her knees weak. She questioned her own resolve. Am I strong enough to handle Mama’s cancer one more time?

Blake shrugged unapologetically. “If the shoe fits.” He glanced significantly at her red heels, then moved closer to the Mustang.

“You’re still driving this? What is it? Four years old?”

“Five.” It was the last car her grandfather had bought for her, a graduation gift. Living in Los Angeles, she’d been unable to afford anything else while paying exorbitant rent and day-care costs.

“Kind of passé, isn’t it?”

At least she knew now what he thought of her. Cori squared her shoulders. Blake didn’t know what she’d been through these past few years. “It runs great and it’s paid for.”

He snorted, irritating her.

“I bet you still drive that beat-up, old truck,” she snapped, regretting the words as soon as they spilled from her lips. The memory of Blake’s taut body, of tangled limbs and an ill-placed steering wheel suddenly made it hard to breathe.

His eyes held her gaze, and Cori’s entire body stilled. Silently, they acknowledged their shared past.

Blake broke the moment first, looking toward the car.

“I’ve never known a Messina to drive a car longer than two years. I know you can afford ten of these. Why are you really driving it? What, has it got crushed, red velvet interior or something?” Blake leaned into the open window for a closer look, his dark blue T-shirt caressing the lean muscles of his back as she once had done.

Belatedly realizing what Blake was about to find, Cori tried to stop him. “Don’t—” But she was too late.

A thin scream cut through the air.

Cori hadn’t planned to tell him like this. She wasn’t ready.

“Mommy, get me out! Mommy!”

The high-pitched plea startled Blake so much that he hit his head as he pulled out of the car. “What the hell?” He rubbed the back of his scalp with one hand.

“Mommy!”

“Coming, Michael.” She opened the door, then with practiced ease moved the passenger seat forward, reached in and released the belt on her son’s car seat. His little face was scrunched up, his eyes tightly shut. But Cori knew Michael considered himself awake. The sooner she freed him, the less likely Blake was to experience one of Michael’s tantrums.

“It’s okay, baby.” He’d only fallen asleep about thirty minutes before they arrived, which was one reason why she’d postponed braving the mansion. Cranky didn’t begin to describe Michael when he hadn’t slept a full hour.

Cori pulled him out and into her arms, guiding his head to her shoulder, away from Blake’s view. Michael settled easily against her, relaxed and content to be free. She rubbed his little back and kissed the crown of his head, familiar gestures meant to reassure her son.

“He’s yours?” Blake frowned at her, his eyes dipping to her legs.

“All thirty-five pounds of him.” Realizing her dress was riding up, she held Michael’s bottom away from her with one hand and smoothed her skirt with the other.

Cori blushed. Actually blushed. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Of all the ways she’d imagined seeing Blake Austin again, flashing her panties hadn’t made the list.

“I heard about someone named Michael. I just…” His frown deepened.

“I’m not married. Never was, if that’s what you’re asking.” Where had that come from? Blake certainly wasn’t asking, much to her heart’s dismay.

She wasn’t ready for this. Granted, Michael was small for his age, so Cori didn’t think Blake would suspect the boy was his son. Heaven knows, he would be furious if he guessed the truth before Cori had a chance to tell him. She just wanted to tell Blake when things were right. Looking at his disapproving frown, she didn’t think this was the time.

Blake’s expression became closed and unreadable as the moment turned excruciatingly awkward. “And the kid…” Blake stepped to his left, craning his neck to see Michael’s face.

“Michael.” Cori stepped slightly back and away, her hand on Michael’s head as she shielded him from view. She didn’t like Blake referring to Michael as the kid.

Blake paused. Scratched his head.

Cori hadn’t been prepared for this kind of reception. So much for her fantasy of Blake seeing Michael and claiming them. Hugging Michael tighter, Cori fought back the tears. Only Michael mattered. And Mama. “Your point?”

Blake looked as if someone had sucker punched him, as if he didn’t know what to say. Then he blurted, “I wasn’t expecting a kid, that’s all.”

“His name is Michael,” Cori said through a throat so tight she struggled for air. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see my mother and get settled.”

Cori stepped past Blake and marched with as much dignity as she could muster on high heels while holding thirty-five pounds of angel. She was practically bent over backward to keep her balance.

“Who is that man, Mommy? I don’t like him.”

“No one we need to worry about, Peanut.” Half of her wished Blake had heard her words.

How could Blake not recognize his own son?

BLAKE REACTED to Cori’s walking away instinctively. He hurried around her and opened the front door, ignoring the blank, unwelcome look from the kid and getting a hesitant “thank you” without a smile from Cori. She’d always been unfailingly polite, inspiring the best behavior in him.

Cori Sinclair had come home. With a kid in tow. Blake’s heart stumbled every time he looked at Cori, dropped to his gut every time he laid eyes on her kid.

He should have called her. They’d shared one unbelievable night together, argued and never spoken again. Stubborn, wounded pride had kept him from contacting her. And she hadn’t come back. Until now.

Despite years of service to Messina Vineyards, it was clear Blake was still an outsider. The Messinas were such a private family, they made the Kennedys look like chatterboxes. Blake respected their silence and hadn’t asked about Cori when she hadn’t returned from school. About a year or more after Cori’s graduation, when it seemed the Messinas had accepted Blake, he’d started accompanying Mr. Messina to award dinners, charity events and the like. Only then did he hear snippets of conversation about Cori and Michael. Sophia, especially, was quick to point out to Mr. Messina and Luke, Cori’s brother, how good Michael was for Cori.

All this time, Blake had assumed Michael was Cori’s lover, not her child. He felt so stupid. At least now, he could lay to rest that nagging suspicion that he’d been the reason Cori had never returned to her family.