Authors: Beverly Barton
Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Religious
His Secret Child (2 page)
No,
her mind screamed.
Yes,
her heart pleaded. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I can't. I …"
He massaged her shoulder, felt her shudder. Caleb wasn't sure exactly why it was suddenly so important to him to renew his old friendship with Sheila, but it was. Maybe she reminded him of good times, of being very young and— Who was he kidding? He was a man who'd been without a woman for more than a year. He'd spent months in the hospital after the accident and not until recently had he been able to even dress himself. Sheila Hanley Vance might not be a beauty, but there was something about her that made him want to run his hands over her big, sturdy body, made him want to lift her onto the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and slide between her legs.
Even if he hadn't recognized her when he'd first seen her tonight, his body had remembered hers. She'd been a virgin that night twelve years ago, but she'd been eager and wild and as willing as any woman he'd ever taken.
There had been too many women in his life, especially when he'd been younger. He couldn't even remember some of their names. But Sheila had been different. Different because he had genuinely liked her.
"Is there some man in your life who would object to our being friends?" he asked.
"I date occasionally," she told him. "But I'm not involved with anyone right now."
"Then why—"
"Because I don't have room for you in my life, Caleb Bishop." Pulling out of his grasp, she turned her back to him and opened the door. "I don't have time to be the kind of friend you need. But there are dozens of women in Crooked Oak who'd be glad to be your friend."
She walked out onto the back porch, but before she could close the door, Caleb grabbed her around the waist and twirled her so that she faced him. He jerked her up against him, circled the back of her neck with his big left hand and brought his mouth forcefully down on hers.
She tried to fight the urge to melt into him, to give herself over to his assault, but the effort failed. She responded to his brutal kiss with equal fury, opening her mouth to accept his thrusting tongue.
This mad dizziness was a unique sensation. Sheila hadn't felt anything like it since the last time Caleb had kissed her. The night she had given him her virginity and her heart—and he had given her Danny.
Suddenly remembering her son—Caleb's son, the child he didn't know he had fathered—Sheila ended the kiss and shoved against Caleb's chest.
Cupping her hip, he pressed her into his arousal and groaned deep in his throat. "We were friends, even lovers for one night. There's no reason why we couldn't be again, since neither of us is attached."
Pushing him away, Sheila glared at Caleb. Her heart wept for what could have been—and for what could never be. But she looked at him squarely, her eyes dry, her face void of emotion. Calmly and without anger, she said, "When you first walked into your old home a few minutes ago, you didn't even recognize me. I doubt you've given me, our former friendship or our one-night stand a thought in twelve years. I'm not one of your beautiful, sophisticated women, Caleb. I'm a widow and a mother, living in a little town in Tennessee. I'm not in the market for a brief affair with the hometown hero."
She turned and walked away, out into the yard and down the gravel road at the side of the house. Standing on the back porch, Caleb watched her until she was out of sight. With every soft, natural sway of her womanly hips, his whole body throbbed with need.
Sheila Hanley Vance had just put him in his place again. Something a woman hadn't done in a long time. Actually not since Sheila had slapped his face the first time he'd kissed her. Women didn't say no to Caleb Bishop, star athlete. Beautiful women, sexy women, rich women threw themselves at him on a regular basis. And now here he'd just been turned down by a big, rawboned, rather plain woman wearing a pair of faded overalls.
Despite the aching need in his body, he laughed loud and hard and long. Hell, Sheila was right. There had to be
a
couple of dozen women in Crooked Oak who'd jump at the chance to go to bed with him if he needed a woman so damn bad. But as much as he'd enjoy female companionship, he needed his privacy even more. At least for a while. Until he'd come to terms with being back home. Until he decided what he was going to do with the rest of his life, now that his major league career was over.
Sooner or later he would get tired of being alone out here. Sooner or later he'd want female companionship even more than he did right now. But the thought of bedding some starry-eyed
fan
didn't appeal to him. Just once, he'd like to make love to a woman who genuinely cared about him, the way Sheila had cared about him all those years ago.
Sheila increased her pace as soon as she rounded the bend in the road and knew that Caleb could no longer see her. Breaking into
a
run, she raced homeward, wanting
to
put as much distance between Caleb Bishop and her as she possibly could.
She hadn't meant for him to find her at his house;
she'd
meant to be long gone before he arrived. Now, as the
March
wind whipped loose strands of her hair against her cheeks and her heartbeat roared in her ears, tears that she could not—would not—shed lodged in her throat.
Breathless and damp with perspiration, she bounded up the steps to her front porch. Slumping down on the top step, she covered her face with her hands and rested her elbows on her knees.
When Tallie had phoned from Nashville to ask her to open up the house for Caleb's return, she'd wanted to tell her friend no. But she couldn't refuse. What excuse could she have possibly given Tallie? Even though Tallie had known Sheila had a crush on Caleb twelve years ago, she didn't know anything about that one night they'd spent together. And she didn't know the truth about Danny.
Tallie probably thought she'd play matchmaker and throw Sheila and Caleb together, giving Sheila a chance with the guy she'd been in love with at eighteen. But the last thing Sheila wanted was Caleb Bishop back in Crooked Oak for any length of time.
If Caleb ever found out exactly how old Danny was, if he ever took a good, hard look at her son, he just might start to wonder. A man at loose ends, his once-glamorous and exciting life ended, Caleb was probably searching for something to fill the empty days. But once he came to terms with his disability and had a chance to decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, he'd leave Crooked Oak. When he'd left her twelve years ago, she had survived. But she didn't want her son to have to suffer over Caleb Bishop's second departure. Danny had gone through enough when Daniel had died five years ago. He had already lost one father. She wasn't going to run the risk of his accepting Caleb into his life and then losing him, too.
Sheila stood, dusted her hands off on her hips and went inside the small, wooden house she'd lived in with her husband. She heard the television in Danny's room and knew he was watching "Nickleodeon." She allowed her son a great deal of freedom, and with each passing year she let him make more and more of his own decisions. If he was watching TV, that meant he'd finished his homework and was probably ready for dinner. They usually ate around five-thirty during the months when Danny didn't have baseball practice, and it was already past five now.
She walked down the hall and stopped in front of Danny's open door. Peeping in, she saw him spread out across the bed, his back braced against the headboard. He glanced away from the TV and up at her. He smiled. And for one endless moment Sheila's heart stood still. He had his father's smile. That lazy, smirking grin that curved the left side of his mouth. She was surprised that no one had ever noticed. If Caleb had been around all these years, someone would have put two and two together long ago.
"Hi, Mom. Did you get Tallie's house all fixed up for Caleb?"
"Yes."
"When's he supposed to get here? Sometime tonight?"
"He's already here. He came before I left."
"Did you talk to him? Gosh, Mom, I can't believe that Caleb Bishop is living down the road from us." Danny scooted to the side of the bed and jumped up. "Do you think he'd give me his autograph? The guys at school didn't believe me when I told them that my mom was going to take Caleb Bishop his supper."
Danny rushed across the room, picked up his baseball and leather glove, then tossed the ball into the air and adeptly caught it in the mitt. "Do you think he'd mind giving me some pointers? You could tell him who I am, that Tallie's practically my aunt, since you and she are such good friends."
Sheila grasped her son's shoulder and forced a smile on her face. "We're not going to bother Caleb while he's visiting Crooked Oak. He's come here to recuperate. But if he stays long enough, I'm sure we'll run into him sooner or later."
"Ah, gee, Mom, couldn't I just stop by his house and get his autograph?"
"No, you may not. I don't want you pestering Caleb."
"Asking a famous person for his autograph isn't pestering him."
"Danny Vance, I want you to promise me that you won't go over to Tallie's house and bother Caleb."
"Ah, Mom."
She had to keep Danny and Caleb apart if at all possible. The more they were together, the more likely it would be that someone would notice the similarities between the two. Even Caleb might notice that Danny didn't resemble Daniel Vance in the least. Danny had inherited her blue eyes, but that was all. His black hair and dark complexion were genetic gifts from Caleb, as were his natural athletic abilities.
"I'll tell you what," Sheila said. "Promise me that you won't bother Caleb and I'll make sure you meet him and get his autograph before he leaves Crooked Oak."
"Okay," Danny agreed reluctantly.
"Go wash up and get ready for supper. We're having barbecue."
"Great. Barbecue is my favorite." Danny tossed the ball and glove down on his bed, then raced out of the bedroom and up the hall to the bathroom.
Sheila ran her hand lovingly over the baseball glove she'd given Danny for Christmas. He'd been fascinated with the game since he was a baby, and Daniel had bought him his first ball and bat, both plastic, when he was two.
Daniel had been a good man. A kind husband and a loving father to a child he'd known wasn't his. She still missed him, and knew that Danny did, too. Surviving Caleb Bishop's return would have been so much easier if Daniel were still alive.
But Daniel was gone, and she had no one else to count on except herself. She and she alone would have to find a way to protect herself and her son from a man who could bring them nothing but heartache.
Caleb hit the rewind button on the VCR and cursed himself for a fool. Why the hell had he brought along the tape of last season's final playoffs game—the last baseball game of Caleb Bishop's illustrious career—when watching himself in top form was an excruciating torment?
"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Bishop?" he said to himself. "How many times are you going to watch that damn tape?"
When he stood, he tossed the remote control onto the sofa and headed for the kitchen. His stomach rumbled, as if on cue, the moment he entered the neat, white kitchen. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, he noticed that it was nearly noon. He hadn't eaten a bite since he'd gotten up nearly four hours ago.
For the past ten days he had shut himself off from the rest of the world. Living like a hermit, he hadn't even answered the telephone for the first few days. But Tallie's insistent messages warning him that if he didn't pick up the damn phone before long, she was going to drive down from Nashville and personally kick his butt, encouraged him to make contact with the outside world.
Caleb pulled a box of cereal from an upper cupboard, retrieved the milk from the refrigerator and prepared himself a bowl of cornflakes. The supply of groceries Sheila Vance had brought him was nearly gone. Within a day or two, he'd either have to make a trip into town or ask Sheila to do some shopping for him. He liked the idea of giving Sheila a call. More than once he had stopped himself from contacting her and using any pretense to lure her over to his house. But she'd made it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested in a brief affair. No, she wouldn't be. His instincts told him that Sheila was still the type of girl who'd want a long-term commitment from a guy. And he simply wasn't the kind of man who made a woman promises he couldn't keep.
Just as he downed the last spoonful of soggy flakes, the telephone rang. Damn, why couldn't Tallie leave him alone! He jerked the receiver from the wall hook by the back door and growled into the phone.
"Yeah, what do you want now?"
"And hello to you, too," Hank Bishop said.
"Hank?"
"Yep. Who'd you think it was?"
"Tallie," Caleb replied. "Our little sister is driving me nuts trying to keep tabs on me from Nashville. You'd think with a husband, a baby and duties as first lady of the state, she wouldn't have time to pester the hell out of me."
Hank chuckled, the deep sound reverberating from his chest
"Well, you know our Tallie. She can't keep her nose out of everybody else's business."
"So, what's up, big brother? Or are you checking on the washed-up has-been, too?"
"You're going to have to stop feeling sorry for yourself sooner or later," Hank said. "Why don't you do all of us, yourself included, a big favor and make it sooner?"
Caleb snorted. "Humph. Straight to the heart of the matter, as always. You make it sound so easy. Just pick myself up by the bootstraps, dust myself off and do … do what, big brother? I wasn't the smart, straight-arrow type like you. And I wasn't the hell-raising rebel like Jake. All I ever wanted was to play baseball. Since I was just a little kid. Now, that's gone. Forever. And I don't have the slightest idea what to do with the rest of my life."
"How about starting by being grateful you have the rest of your life."
Caleb knew that his older brother meant well, but Hank didn't know what it felt like to have his life out of control, his dreams destroyed and his future uncertain. No, Hank was the type who, no matter what happened, would always take charge and find a way to do the honorable thing. If Hank were in his shoes, he'd already have mapped out a new course for his future. But then, Hank was the smart brother. Caleb was the dumb jock.
"Yeah," Caleb agreed. "I suppose being a pitcher with a useless right arm is better than being dead."
"Are you still moping around the old homestead?" Hank asked. "Haven't you even been into town? I'll bet folks are dying to see you and welcome the local hero back to Crooked Oak. And there's probably more than one cute girl who'd like to ease your loneliness."
Caleb chuckled. There was no point denying his lady-killer reputation, not to his own brother, who knew him better than anyone else alive. "As a matter of fact, I met a rather interesting woman the first day I came back."
"I thought you hadn't left the house."
"This particular woman was here when I arrived. She'd aired out the place, brought in groceries and had my supper waiting for me."
"Are you talking about Tallie's friend? What's her name? Mike Hanley's kid sister? The one who married Dan Vance?"
"That's the one. Sheila Vance."
"If I remember correctly, I'd say the woman isn't your usual type."
"Maybe I'd like to try something different for a change," Caleb said. "I've had my share of airheaded beauties. Sheila may be a plain Jane, but there's something about her that—"
"It's called quality," Hank said. "Tallie thinks highly of Sheila. Seems she's had it pretty rough, widowed so young and trying to raise a child on her own. Think twice before you use a woman like her to ease your loneliness."
"If you're warning me not to hurt Sheila, save your breath. Tallie's already read me the riot act"
"Good for her." Hank cleared his throat. "Why don't you come up to Virginia and stay with me for a while?"
"I might later on. But for now I just want to stay put to try to figure out who the hell Caleb Bishop is if he's not the star pitcher for the Atlanta Braves."
"You'll figure it out." Hank sighed loud enough for Caleb to hear him.
"Do me a favor, will you? Call our little sister and ask her to leave me alone, at least for a few days."
"Will do. Talk to you in a couple of weeks."
"So long." Caleb hung up the receiver, then glanced out the kitchen window at the vast backyard and thickly wooded area behind the house. If he was a hunter and fisherman, the way Hank was, he could pass the time with a rifle or with a rod and reel. And if he was a hard-living SOB like Jake, he could hit every bar in town and ease some of his frustration in a few fistfights.
But baseball had been his only passion for so many years that he could barely remember ever caring about anything else. As a teenager, the only other thing that had interested him had been his 1980 Camaro—the car he had wrecked, the car Tallie had put back together years later.
Cars. Hmm. Maybe he needed to buy himself a fixer-upper street rod and— Hell, how could he do any work on a car when his right hand was practically useless to him?
Sheila and Mike owned a garage, didn't they? He could stop by and talk to them about helping him find something special—maybe another Camaro—and he could hire them to do most of the work. He could hang around the garage and watch, and occasionally do a few things himself.
Okay, Bishop, admit the truth. You need an excuse to see Sheila Vance again. An excuse she'll buy without any question.
"All right, I admit it," he said out loud to himself. "I don't know why I can't stop thinking about Sheila. Maybe it's because she's so different from the women I've always dated. Maybe it's because winning her over would be a real challenge."
Think twice before you use a woman like her to ease your loneliness.
Caleb heard Hank's warning once again.
Sheila was no kid. She was a thirty-year-old widow, not some naive innocent. A pang of guilt hit him square in the gut.
At least not this time,
an inner voice said. Okay. Okay. So Sheila had been a shy bookworm when he'd known her twelve years ago. And yes, he'd been pretty sure she was a virgin the night he made love to her. But it wasn't as if he'd forced himself on her. She'd been more than willing for him to be her first lover.
She was in love with you, you bastard!
But that was then and this is now. Sheila was no starry-eyed, infatuated innocent anymore. If they had a brief affair now, they would meet on equal terms—two lonely people in need of companionship.
Who the hell was he kidding? Sheila Vance was no more in his league now than she'd been when they were eighteen. He had no right to even consider seducing her. But, God help him, he knew that given half a chance he'd take her and to hell with the consequences.