Nathan's Child

It was Nathan's eyes that caught and held her. Blue eyes that had once been soft and loving now glinted like steel as he met her gaze and answered her question.

“Marry me.”

Thirteen years ago she would have jumped at the chance. Now Carin forced herself to straighten her fingers, to remain calm, steady, centered.

“No.”

It clearly wasn't the answer Nathan had been expecting. He'd shared one night with her, then, consumed by guilt at betraying his brother, he'd told her it was all a mistake! She'd loved him body, heart and soul—and he'd simply disappeared.

Marry him?

Dear Reader,

My editor says she has received lots of letters asking, “Where's Nathan?” from people who have read about his brothers, Rhys and Dominic, in earlier books. My editor herself has asked me, “Where's Nathan?” more than once.

Nathan, I told her, was out roaming the world. Footloose photographer Nathan Wolfe rarely laid his head in the same place two nights in a row. He didn't have an office, he didn't work nine to five. He had no ties that bound him and no interest in creating any. Discovering he was a dad knocked Nathan right off his feet. It made him stop and question everything he'd ever thought about his life, his family, his past, his present and, ultimately, his future. His future looked suddenly very different. All of a sudden Nathan wanted things he'd told himself he never wanted—a home and a family of his own.

It takes a guy a while to bend his mind around that. That's why, I told my editor, it took Nathan so long to get his book. He had a lot to come to terms with before he could face Carin Campbell again, before he could meet the daughter he hadn't known he had. But when at last he was ready, he made his move. He came back to Pelican Cay, determined to do the right thing. What Nathan discovered is what most of us discover (what
I
discovered in writing this book)—that life is what happens when you're making other plans.

I hope you enjoy Nathan's story! Thanks for caring about what happened to him!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

I
T WAS A DAY
like any other in July on Pelican Cay. It was hot and humid and, according to Trina, the weather girl on the island's on-again, off-again radio station, there was only the faintest hope that a late-afternoon storm would blow in and clear the air.

Carin was grateful for the ancient air conditioner rattling in the window of her small art and gift shop because it kept her cool as she worked, but mostly because its welcome noise brought in customers—day-trippers off the launch from Nassau and week-long vacationers from the local inns and family resorts who came seeking refuge from the sweltering midday heat and lingered because Carin's shop was an island paradise all of its own.

Filled with one-of-a-kind art objects, paintings and sketches, sea glass jewelry, cast sand sculptures and whimsical mobiles that enchanted young and old alike, Carin's Cottage was a haven for those with money and taste and a desire to bring home something more enduring than a T-shirt to remember their holiday by.

Everyone who found their way to tiny Pelican Cay eventually found their way to Carin's. Business was good. Life was sweet.

And she could hardly wait to tell Fiona, the talented but apprehensive young sculptor, that her newest small pieces were headed for Pittsburgh—or would be as soon as Carin finished wrapping them—with the two nice ladies chatting to her about what a lovely place Pelican Cay was.

“Heaven on earth,” Carin agreed as she wrapped a small, carved driftwood pelican in blue tissue paper. She put it in a white carrier bag and looked up when the door
suddenly opened. She smiled, hoping for another tourist or two before the launch headed back to Nassau.

One look and the smile vanished. “Oh, hell.”

The two ladies blinked in astonishment.

“I thought you said heaven,” one began.

But the other turned toward the door. “Oh,” she said.

“My,” she said.

“Who's that?” she said.

“The devil himself,” Carin answered under her breath.

“Nathan Wolfe,” she said aloud, and was grateful she didn't sound as shaken as she felt.

Nathan Wolfe had always been handsome as the devil. With his thick, black windblown hair and dark tan, he had once been the epitome of male beauty.

The years had honed his looks, sharpened them, hardened them. And now he looked as fierce and hard and predatory as his name as he stood in the doorway of Carin's shop and slowly, behind sunglasses, scanned the room—settling finally on her.

Carin didn't move. Deliberately she stared back, determined to let him know she wasn't afraid of him. Only when she was sure she'd made her point did she avert her gaze, turning back to concentrate on the package she was wrapping for her customers.

They were her priority—not Nathan bloody Wolfe!

But whatever conversation they'd been having before Nathan had opened the door had gone completely out of her head. And the ladies seemed much more interested in Nathan. They stood just drinking in the sight of the hard, devilishly handsome man who looked like nothing so much as a gunfighter just stepping into the OK corral.

“I don't suppose we could buy him,” the taller one murmured.

“You wish,” the other said.

I wish,
Carin thought. And she wished they would take him all the way back to Pittsburgh with them, too.

The taller one studied him a moment longer, but when he didn't seem to even notice her—not once shifting his gaze from Carin—she reached for the bag Carin was filling with their purchases. “Come along, Blanche. We can wrap these back at the ship.”

“No,” Carin protested hastily. “Don't hurry away. Take your time. Stay awhile.”
Stay forever.
If they stayed, maybe Nathan would be the one to leave.

But at that moment he came in and shut the door behind him.

Come on, come on,
she thought.
Just get it over with.

But he didn't move her way. Instead he wandered over to the counter at the far end of the room and began leisurely examining Seamus Logan's coconut carvings, then Fiona's sculptures. Carin gritted her teeth. She watched his easy, nerve-racking grace as he took his time, picking up and studying them all. He moved on then to the handmade toys that the Cash brothers made, Sally's straw weavings, the hand-painted T-shirts and baby rompers that Alisette designed and then he weighed one of old Turk Sawyer's paperweights in his hand.

She'd never thought of Turk's paperweights as weapons before. She did now.

They weren't enemies, she and Nathan. They simply hadn't seen each other in years and years. Thirteen years, to be exact.

And until last September she'd lived in hope of never seeing him again.

But then his brother Dominic had come to Pelican Cay—and Carin had known it was just a matter of time.

But months had passed, and when Nathan didn't come, she began to hope. And now, in the space of a single moment, her hopes had been dashed.

He set the paperweight down and lifted his gaze to study the paintings on the walls—
her
paintings—and with every slow step, Nathan came closer.

Ignoring him as best she could, Carin finished wrapping the last piece of sculpture and put it in the bag. “There you go. I do hope you'll enjoy them—and think of us often. And I hope you'll come back again.”

“Oh, we'd love to,” one said.

“Especially if you start stocking merchandise like that.” The shorter one nodded in Nathan's direction and started for the door.

“He'd be some souvenir,” the other agreed with a laugh. Then, eyeing Nathan up and down as she passed, she hurried after her friend. The door opened and banged shut behind them.

In the rattle and hum of the air conditioner, Carin thought she could hear a bomb ticking. She laced her fingers together and took deep, steadying breaths and tried to gather her thoughts—and her defenses.

Thirteen years ago she had been in love with this man. Thirteen years ago he had been gentle, kind, boyish, loving—everything that his hard-edged brother, Dominic, the man she had been engaged to marry, had not.

She'd liked but she hadn't loved Dominic Wolfe. He had been her father's idea of her perfect husband, not hers. But naive girl that she'd been, she'd thought their marriage would work—until she met Nathan.

Knowing Nathan—loving Nathan—Carin had realized that she couldn't marry his brother.

She'd tried to tell Dominic. But he'd told her it was nerves and brushed her aside. She couldn't tell her father—he wanted her marriage to Dominic to cement his business relationship with Dominic's father. Once that had sounded sensible. After she'd met Nathan, she knew it wouldn't be.

So in the end she'd done the only thing she could do—she'd run.

She'd jilted Dominic, had left him at the altar and gone into hiding. She'd been no match for him. He had been too
sophisticated, too strong, too handsome, too hard, too powerful for a girl like her.

Ten months ago he'd looked the same. But Carin had grown up a lot in thirteen years. Even so she'd had to muster all her courage to deal with him, to apologize to him—to explain.

And miracle of miracles, he'd changed, too. He'd been kinder, more patient, gentler—a word she'd never imagined using with Dominic Wolfe.

He was married, she'd learned, to the funky, funny purple-haired Sierra, whom she'd met earlier that day. Sierra was the last woman on earth Carin would have imagined with Dominic. But she had obviously been good for Dominic. She'd changed him.

Falling in love
had changed him.

Clearly nothing similar had happened to his brother. Nathan looked every bit as fierce and hard and powerful now as Dominic once had. But if she had handled Dominic, she was determined to handle him.

Behind the counter where he couldn't see, Carin smoothed damp palms down the sides of her white slacks. Then she took one last deep breath. “Good afternoon,” she said politely in her best shopkeeper's voice. “What can I do for you?”

Nathan set down the sailboat and slowly turned to face her. The years might have been hard, but they had given him character and even, she noted, a few gray hairs. His formerly straight nose looked as if it had been broken at least once. His tan was still deep and, as she could see when he removed his sunglasses, there were lines at the corners of his eyes.

It was his eyes that caught and held her. Blue eyes that had once been soft and loving now glinted like steel as he met her gaze and answered her question.

“Marry me.”

Thirteen years ago she would have jumped at the chance.
Now Carin forced herself to straighten her fingers, to remain calm, steady, centered.

“No.”

It clearly wasn't the answer Nathan had been expecting. His jaw dropped. Then he clamped his mouth shut. A muscle ticked in his temple. He looked equal parts annoyance, consternation and fury.

Well, too bad. Thirteen years ago if he'd said those words to her, Carin would have flung herself on him and wept for joy.

But he hadn't.

He'd shared one night with her, then, consumed by guilt at betraying his brother, he'd told her it was all a mistake! She'd loved him body, heart and soul—and he'd simply disappeared.

Nathan hadn't been there to help her tell Dominic she couldn't marry him. And he hadn't been there nine months later when the fruit of that one night of lovemaking—their daughter, Lacey—had been born.

He was here now, Carin knew, only because Dominic had gone home last autumn and told him about Lacey.

And he'd certainly taken his own sweet time to show up!

Marry him?

She wouldn't have him on a plate.

“No,” she said again when he kept standing there as if he was waiting for her to rethink her answer. “Thank you,” she added with icy politeness. For nothing.

For a split second Nathan's hard gaze flickered uncertainly. “I would have come sooner,” he said gruffly, “if you'd bothered to tell me.”

Carin almost snorted. “As if you'd have wanted to know.”

They glared at each other. She was gratified when he looked away first.

“What I wanted didn't matter,” he said irritably. “I'd have been here if you'd told me.”

“You left. Or had you forgotten?”

“You were engaged to my brother!”

“And I'd just made love with you! For God's sake, Nathan, did you honestly think I was going to turn around two days later and marry someone else?”

“How the hell did I know? You were planning to,” he argued. “That's what you were there for. You never said you weren't.”

“You didn't give me a chance! You practically bolted out of the bed. Then you went running around the house, throwing your stuff in a bag and babbling about what a mistake it had been!”

A deep-red flush suffused Nathan's face. He picked up one of Turk's paperweights, turned it over and over in his hands, then slammed it down and began to pace in front of the counter.

“Okay,” he said at last, “I didn't handle it well. It was a new experience for me. I didn't make a habit of sleeping with my brother's fiancées.” He turned and leveled a gaze at her. “I didn't know the protocol.”

“I don't think there is protocol,” Carin said quietly, meeting his gaze levelly. “I think there's just honesty.”

The muscle ticked in his temple again. He rocked back on his heels and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Ok. Fine. Let's be honest.” His voice was harsh. “It was great, but it was wrong. You were engaged, damn it, and not to me! I felt like a heel afterward, and I thought it was in everybody's best interest if I disappeared.”

“Is that what you thought?” Carin said with saccharine sweetness. “You thought I'd just forget?”

“I didn't know what the hell you'd do. I barely knew you!”

“You knew me better than anyone in the world.”

She'd been so vulnerable that week before the wedding. She'd been so worried. And she'd found in Nathan the
kindred spirit she'd always hoped for. She'd poured out her feelings to him—and he didn't believe he'd known her!

Nathan raked his hand through his hair. “I didn't know what you'd do. But believe me, I was shocked as hell to come back to New York five months later and discover you'd jilted my brother and no one knew where you were!”

“You asked?”

“Yes, damn it, I asked.”

“And they said they didn't know, and you left it at that.” She said the words scornfully.

“What was I supposed to do? You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address. And I sure as hell wasn't going to press the issue. Your whereabouts wasn't Dominic's favorite topic of conversation.”

She could believe that. She'd felt guilty for years. Still did. “So, fine. You didn't know where I was. You should have left it at that.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, I didn't go anywhere. I was here all the time.”

“Hiding out.” Nathan said the words dismissively.

“I wasn't hiding out!” she retorted, stung.

“Right. Sent out cards with your forwarding address, did you?”

She looked away.

“And I'm sure all your old friends from Smith and St. Gertrudis or wherever it was you went to school know exactly where you are now. Your father didn't even know!”

“My father didn't want to know.”

“What?”

“I called him a week after…after…the wedding didn't…happen. I wanted to explain.” It was her turn to shrug now, to act casual, to pretend that what had happened then didn't still hurt. But sadly, whether she wanted to admit it or not, it did. “He didn't want to listen. He told me I was no daughter of his. And then he hung up on me.”

“Jesus!” Nathan looked shocked. He paced halfway
down the aisle and scowled furiously. “Nobody told me that.”