Sweet Child of Mine (2 page)

When he entered the café, quiet at this late hour, he was stopped at every occupied table or booth by people seeking reassurance. He did the best he could, though it had been a very long day and all he really wanted was some peace and quiet and food.

He spoke with the last group and traded handshakes all around, then headed for his favorite back booth.

But it was occupied—by the very woman he’d been worried about earlier.

Staring into a coffee cup, looking utterly lost, Suzanne Jorgenson seemed to gather what little light made it into that corner of the room. Sleek and straight, her black hair fell past her shoulders, veiling her face as she leaned forward, her head in her hands.

Suzanne was a good foot shorter than his own six four, but her will was so strong and her spirit so indomitable that she’d always seemed taller. Tonight she looked fragile and vulnerable, and it shocked Michael so much that he wasn’t sure whether to go to her or retreat.

But he’d never been much for retreating.

“Mind if I join you?”

Her head jerked up, and he could see that she’d been crying. On her lovely face was a look of such despair that it didn’t matter how tired he was. Instead of waiting for an answer she seemed too dazed to give, he sat down. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment the old sparks flickered in those stunning violet eyes. “I don’t recall inviting you to sit down, Mr. Mayor.” But he heard the tremble in her voice.

“So sue me. What’s wrong? The kids are going to be okay, I swear it. We’ve got lots of people working on this. The ranch isn’t alone anymore.”

“It isn’t—” She stopped, but he could see temptation flicker.

He cocked his head. “Is there something about the ranch I need to know? Something you and Blake haven’t told us?”

She shook her head slowly. “It’s not the ranch. It’s—” She glanced away. “Nothing. Not anything you need to worry about.”

But she was worried, desperately so. He made his living reading people—in court, in depositions, in the confidences they shared with him. He also knew the value of silence. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders and a willing ear to spare.”

When her gaze flickered over him, measuring those shoulders, Michael felt an answering response, and the strength of it surprised him. Well, all right, it wasn’t like he’d never looked at her as a woman. But
most of the time she was a pain in the behind, always involved in some cause or other, always trying to push for the city to pitch in, always impatient with the pace of bureaucracy.

But he had noticed she was female. She was slender though definitely curved in all the right places. You couldn’t look at her with those big violet eyes and those knockout legs and not know she was all woman. If she’d use that delectable mouth for something besides arguing with him over every line of the city budget as though the only important causes were hers—

He caught himself staring at that mouth and turned away quickly, calling out his order to Ruby.

“No date tonight, Mr. Mayor?” There it was, that tone she used, that snotty tone that made him—

She didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that was making her cry, so she must be out to pick a fight.

He wasn’t going to cooperate. “Nope. No date. Doesn’t look too good for the head of the emergency management team to be playing while the Titanic sinks.”

Her eyes went wide, and she shifted in the booth. “Oh God, the kids—”

He stopped her with one raised palm. “It was a joke, Jorgenson. All right, a lousy one, but I’m a little punchy. We’ve been putting in some long nights lately.”

Suddenly her eyes softened. “Blake’s exhausted.”

“I’ll bet you are, too. You’ve been at the hospital every day and all that driving back and forth to the ranch trying to keep the kids calm has to be wearing you out. You should be home asleep, you know. You won’t do them any good if you wind up in a bed beside them.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Careful, Longstreet. I might get the idea that you’re a decent guy.”

He shrugged and grinned. “I even have a mother who thinks I’m pretty terrific. Go figure.” He watched her closely. He took one more stab, keeping his tone light. “So if it’s not the ranch, is it some deep, dark secret that I can exploit the next time you’re haranguing me at the council meeting?”

She made a halfhearted attempt to rise to the bait. “Can’t help you there. Sorry.”

The waitress walked up with his food, and Suzanne fell silent.

Michael didn’t speak either but tucked into his meal, savoring the first bites of Ruby’s meat loaf from heaven. After he’d satisfied the initial hunger pangs, he looked at Suzanne again, observing the slim fingers clutching the coffee cup until her knuckles turned white.

He went on impulse. “Give me a dollar.”

Her head jerked up again. “What?”

“Give me a dollar.” He spied the change beside
her cup and grabbed it. “Never mind. Thirty-seven cents will do.”

“What are you doing?”

“You just hired me as your lawyer. Now I can’t reveal to a soul anything you tell me. So spill it, Suzanne. Something’s eating you up and you need to talk about it.”

She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

Then the tears spilled over.

“I’m going to lose my son. For the second time.”

“Y
ou what?” Michael’s deep green eyes widened. The shock of sun-streaked brown hair that always fell over his forehead bounced as his head reared up. “You have a son? Where is he?”

“He’s in Sacramento with his father. Well, not his—” Yes, Jim Roper was Bobby’s father, the only one he’d ever known. “He’s with his father.” She lapsed into silence.

She expected a volley of questions, but instead Michael waited her out.

She reached for the saltshaker on the table in front of him, sliding it around in aimless circles until she realized what she was doing and jerked her hand
back, trapping it in her lap. “I—” She glanced up once, then down quickly, but he didn’t look impatient. Instead he sat there, fork still, simply watching her with only concern in his eyes.

“Your food will get cold. Go ahead and eat,” she said.

“My food can wait. Talk to me, Suzanne.”

The gentle tone was something she’d never heard from him. They’d always been too busy striking sparks off each other, arguing vigorously in one meeting or another.

She realized that she’d never been alone with Michael Longstreet before. There was a stillness about the man that seeped beneath her skin, a patience that made her realize how much she needed to talk to someone.

“I had to give him up for adoption.” She kept her eyes on her coffee cup. “I didn’t want to, but it was the right thing to do. I was sixteen. I couldn’t have cared for him the way he deserved.” She couldn’t risk a glance upward, couldn’t bear seeing if his expression disapproved. No matter how often she’d told herself she’d done the right thing, it still hurt. She’d still wanted her baby back, sometimes so much she thought she couldn’t last into the next breath.

Anyway, it was done. It was over—or it had been over. But not anymore.

“A few months ago I received a call from Jim Roper, the man who adopted my baby. Bobby—”

She looked up then and couldn’t help a smile. “His name is Bobby. He’ll be ten soon.” And oh, how she wanted to celebrate his birthday with him. Wanted to bake him a cake with her own hands and blow up balloons and do all the things she’d wanted to do every March 28th of the last nine years.

“What happened to his biological father?” Michael asked.

She glanced away. “He didn’t want a baby. His future was too bright, he said. Too much of his life ahead of him. He offered me money for an abortion and made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with a child he doubted was his own.”

A low curse issued from Michael’s throat, and she gathered the courage to look back. She saw his eyes darken with outrage, but on his face she saw more than that, a swirling of strong emotions she couldn’t define. “I’d never been with anyone else. Fool that I was, I actually thought we were in love, this rich man’s son and the daughter of a plumber.” A rich man’s son like the one who sat before her.

Michael didn’t miss the accusation in her voice. If only she knew. He’d made the opposite choice from her rich boy and married the waitress his parents tried to buy off, knowing his parents would cut him off without a penny. Feeling righteous because he loved her so much.

His foolish pride had ultimately cost his wife and unborn baby their lives.

Michael jerked his dark thoughts back to the woman across the table. “He didn’t deserve you. He wouldn’t have made you happy.”

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “But I could have kept my baby—” She grasped her napkin in white-knuckled fingers and sniffed hard, forcing the tears back. “No, you’re right. I know I did the best thing for Bobby, but—” Her hands fluttered from the table, palms up in helplessness.

“So now you fight like a tigress for other people’s children.”

The violet gaze shifted to his, the thick black lashes still shimmering with tears. The corners of her full mouth tilted slightly, and she nodded. “I guess so.”

“So what’s happened now, tonight?”

The faint smile vanished. She twisted the paper napkin through her fingers. “When Jim Roper contacted me, it was because Bobby had been wanting to meet his biological mother. His adoptive mother died five years ago, and Jim has been raising Bobby alone.” Her face brightened in a way he’d never seen. “He’s done a good job. Bobby’s a bright, healthy, energetic boy who’s very secure in the love he’s been given.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “I was so afraid to meet Bobby, even though Jim and I agreed to take it slow and not tell him yet that I was his mother. Give him time to get used to me, to decide if he liked me without all that pressure.” Moisture glistened again, one
slow tear trailing down her cheek. “He likes me, but I’m so afraid that he’ll hate me when he knows.” The napkin tore in her fingers. “And now it’s too late.”

Michael frowned. “Why?”

“Jim hasn’t been feeling well. He finally went to the doctor last week and found out that he’s got pancreatic cancer. He doesn’t have long. He wants me to take Bobby.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Her head snapped up. “Of course I do, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But Jim’s wife has a cousin named in his will as guardian if anything happens to Jim.”

“So? He can change the will.”

“He’s afraid she’ll contest it because I’m single and I don’t have a long job history or much money. The cousin is married and is financially secure.” She looked up at him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such misery in his life. “I understand. I do. Jim doesn’t have much to leave for Bobby, so he needs to be sure Bobby’s in the best hands. It’s just that—” Her voice broke, and he saw her shoulders shake. “I feel like I’m losing him all over again. Jim says he believes that I’d be the best mother, but he admits that the cousin would be good to Bobby and she’s got all the things that I don’t.”

“Like a husband and solid financial footing?”

Her eyes sparked as she nodded. Her voice was fierce when she spoke. “But I have love, so much
love. All the love he could ever want. And it’s going to be so hard on him, anyway, losing Jim. He doesn’t know this cousin, and he really likes me, I know he does. Jim says so, too, says he’s never seen Bobby take to someone so quickly.

“Isn’t this ridiculous?” she asked through a sheen of tears. “It sounds like a great soap opera plot, I’m sure.”

Michael shook his head. “In your work and mine, we both see a lot of messy situations. Life is like that.”

“Mine’s not. Not usually.”

“Want me to see if I could negotiate something? It’s what I do for a living, after all.”

She shook her head. “Jim is too sick. I’m worried about the strain on him. He’s holding it together for Bobby right now, but I think it’s sheer will. He needs a quick and easy solution, and the easiest thing is just to give in and not fight this. Maybe I’m being selfish, wanting Bobby back so badly.”

Remembering how badly Elaine had wanted their baby, Michael shook his head. “You gave him up once, despite what you wanted. I don’t think selfish applies.”

She ran the fingers of one hand through the long, silky mane and tried to smile. “Jim said it was too bad I couldn’t just order up a husband. He thinks he could get the cousin to back off if he’s able to show her that I could give Bobby as much as she could.”

She glanced up at Michael. “Know any likely candidates, Counselor? Since you’re on retainer and all, I might as well get my money’s worth.” She strove for lightness, but in her eyes swam pure misery.

Michael thought about his conversation with his mother and almost laughed, except it wasn’t funny. Just hours ago he’d been gnashing his teeth, wishing for a way to ease his father’s last days but unable to stomach the hypocrisy of searching for a temporary wife.

He shook his head. Surely he couldn’t seriously be considering the obvious option. He had the solution for both of them right in his hands, but—

He knew he couldn’t rule it out. Fate was a quirky, ill-tempered witch, but every once in a while, she smiled your way. “What would you do with this husband if you found him?” He strove for a casual tone.

“I’d kiss his feet if he’d help me get my son.”

“You only want a man long enough to get custody of your child, is that it?” He didn’t know why that pricked at his temper. It was perfect. All he wanted was a way to make his dad happy for whatever time remained. He had no heart left to give a woman.

But Suzanne didn’t look cynical. Just worn and sad. “My only concern has to be Bobby right now. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. There’s no candidate running around.”

Michael took a quick glance out the window, wondering if he could really do this.

Then he looked back at the woman across from him, and the slope of defeat in her shoulders tugged at his conscience. He could help her out and make his dad happy at the same time. She didn’t want more than he could give. All her love would go to her son. If he were the one dying and having to leave a son behind, he’d want that son to have a mother’s love as fierce as Suzanne’s.

“Maybe there is someone.”

Her head jerked up. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny, Michael. Please…I don’t feel like sparring now.”

“I’m not sparring. And I’m not joking. Maybe I’ve got a solution for you.”

Any hesitation he felt was doomed, once he saw the flare of intense joy in her eyes. Quickly, she banked it, holding herself stiffly as if afraid to trust his words. Her tone was guarded as she responded. “And what might that solution be?”

Here goes nothing. He felt a swift inner clench as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You could marry me.”

Suzanne would have thought despair had dulled her capacity for shock, but obviously not. Dire as her situation was, she felt stunned laughter bubble up in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”

Eyes the color of moss by a mountain stream never wavered. “I’ve got all the qualifications—money, sta
bility, solid background, good reputation.” He grinned, though it seemed a little forced. “Even got all my teeth.”

Her shocked laughter died out quickly. “I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?”

He clucked his tongue. “Such a cynic.” But she caught the hollowness in his eyes as he glanced away.

“Michael, this is ridiculous.”

His gaze clicked back to hers. “But it solves your problem, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, and unleashes about a zillion more. We can’t even be in the same room without arguing. We’re as different as night and day. You’ve got a different future. One of these days you’re going to fall in love with one of the babes you’ve always got stashed away, have a rich baby or two and live the perfect life in a perfect house.”

“No.” His jaw flexed. “I’m not falling in love again. Not ever. That’s over for me.” For one instant, something dark and wounded peered out from deep inside his eyes. Quickly he shuttered them, so quickly she might have imagined it.

The very thought shocked her. She’d never thought of Michael Longstreet as anything but on top of his game. That was the man everyone knew: easy to laugh, comfortable inside his skin, a confident leader of men. She’d never thought his razor-sharp mind capable of being clouded by the messy emotions real people felt.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

One sharp glance told her the topic was closed for discussion. He shrugged, then flashed her the old killer grin she’d seen charm any number of women since she’d first met him. She’d never thought of it as hiding anything but idle rich-boy carelessness before.

“Don’t change the subject. It would solve your problem, right?” he asked.

Suzanne blinked, then shook her head. “Why would you do such a thing? Especially for me. You don’t even like me.”

“That’s not true.” His tone was emphatic. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He shoved his plate away and leaned closer. “I like your mind.” When she snorted, he didn’t give. “No, it’s true. I respect your mind and your passion for what you do. I don’t have to agree with your approach in order to respect you or to know that you’re motivated by the best of intentions.”

“Then why are you so often the roadblock for my ideas?”

“Because you’re impulsive and you let your heart rule your head. You go off half-cocked. You can’t expect the whole world to fall in line simply because it feels so right to you. People don’t work that way.”

“You are so wrong.” Suzanne’s temper spiked.

Then she heard him chuckle.

One dark eyebrow lifted as she illustrated his point perfectly.

She shoved her fingers into her hair. “It would never work. We’d kill each other and Bobby would be an orphan again.”

His eyes softened. “I don’t think it would go quite that far, as long as we gave each other wide berth.”

A spark of hope glimmered. “So it would all be a sham? We’d only pretend to be married?”

“We’d have to make it legal. I’d imagine Jim’s cousin would check. You’d have to live with me.”

“Not forever, though. Just until I could adopt Bobby legally. Then she could never take him.”

“We’d have to both adopt him. The courts aren’t going to give custody in a situation where the husband doesn’t want to be involved. As a birth mother who has terminated her rights in order for him to be adopted in the first place, you’re no different in the eyes of the court than Joe Blow off the street.”

She knew it was true, but hearing it from him was like a knife blade to the pain she’d carried around ever since the day she’d signed those papers.

“I don’t understand you at all. Why would you want to do this?”

His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”

“Uh-uh. No dice, Rich Boy. I had to spill my guts, now you start talking, too.”

For a moment his eyes looked hard and cold as ice. He glanced away, then sighed deeply. He studied the
scarred tabletop as he spoke. “My father has been ill for many years. Ever since I was twelve and he had a massive heart attack, his health has been precarious and every day was a bonus. For too many years I forgot that, but I’ve tried to make it up to him since I moved back.” He glanced up quickly through thick brown lashes. “He had pneumonia this winter, and it put a terrible strain on his already-damaged heart. His doctor says he’s weakening pretty dramatically lately. I can see it myself.”