Wild Honey (10 page)

“Wow!” Matt exclaimed, regarding him with wonder. He waved a mangled drumstick toward their guest, not noticing Randi’s smothered giggle. “You’re a awful good guesser!”

“Nah,” Travis said with a shrug, “just lucky.”

“I’m lucky, too,” Matt mumbled around a mouthful of chicken.

“Mind what I said about not talking with your mouth full, young man,” Randi admonished.

“Lucky, huh?” Travis prompted as if she hadn’t spoken, then caught the reproving glance she darted at him. “Uh, you can tell me ‘bout it soon’s you finish swallowin’, okay?”

Father and son threw identical sheepish grins at her. Sheepish, yet boyishly charming, and Randi felt something twist and curl around the defenses she’d erected. She forced herself to look away. I
won’t be drawn into this. I won’t! Just a few more hours, and he’ll be gone. A few short hours, and things can go back to—

“I’m lucky,” Matt announced excitedly, his mouthful of chicken dutifully swallowed, “‘cause Aunt Jill ‘n’ Uncle David’re gonna take me to Disney World!”

“All right!” Travis exclaimed as if learning this for the first time. “You sure
are
lucky, Tiger. When are you goin’?”

“Tomorrow, right, Mom?” Matt said, as Travis cast her a questioning look.

Randi damned her luck. She’d hoped the subject of the Disney trip wouldn’t come up. Or at least the specifics of when Jill and David were arriving. Now McLean would learn of the postponement, and she had a hunch he wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. Well, she’d just have to stand firm and not let him.

“Mom?” Matt prompted.

“Yes, sweetheart,” she made herself say with a smile. “Tomorrow.”

Travis still looked questioningly at her while Matt nodded happily and rummaged for more chicken. She murmured quietly to McLean, “Last-minute change of plans.”

“No kiddin’,” he murmured back, a light slowly dawning in his eyes. His conclusion was all too evident in the satisfied smile he gave her: the change of plans afforded him another day with Matt. “Well, fancy that. Reckon Matt’s not the only lucky—”

“Now, wait a minute…” she began warningly.

Ignoring her, he turned to Matt “Ever gone crabin’, Tiger?”

“Crabbin’?” Matt was clearly intrigued, and neither he nor his father caught Randi’s frown. Not only had McLean bulldozed right past her intent with regard to tomorrow, but Matt’s inflection had assumed the lazy sound of Travis’s Tidewater drawl.
Damn the man!

“Is crabbin’ like fishin’, but with crabs?” Matt went on excitedly.

Travis’s laugh rang with delight. The kid was not only normal, he was sharp as the proverbial tack. “Sure is,” he told the boy, “and it so happens, I was plannin’ to try my hand at it tomorrow. ‘Course, I might need some help…”

As he let his words trail off seductively, he grinned into the widening eyes of his son.
His son!
Lord, it just didn’t get any better than this!

“From
me?”
Matt’s face was full of wonder as Travis ignored Randi’s glare and nodded..

“Hey, Mom, didya hear?” The child’s gaze swung to his mother, who quickly pasted a smile on her face while she silently cursed Travis McLean to hell and back. It was happening, just as she’d feared: McLean was moving in with all the subtlety of a locomotive charging downhill. Dear heaven, what could she do to stop him?

There was certainly no stopping Matt’s enthusiasm. “Travis needs me!” he caroled as if it was the proudest moment of his young life. “We’re gonna catch crabs!
Wow! Wait’ll I tell Robbie! Crabbin’ ‘n’ Disney World ‘n’ all!”

He grinned at the adults, his small face a picture of unmitigated joy; Randi felt her heart wobble, even as her spirits took a nosedive. “Wow!” her son said again. “This is my bestest summer ever!”

“H
AVE FUN
, you guys!” Randi waved and blew a kiss as David’s Volvo wagon backed around the cottage’s flagpole. “Bye! Don’t forget to call!” Matt and Jill grinned and waved back while David changed gears and gave her a jaunty salute.

“Bye!” she called one more time as the car moved away. She was still waving furiously, despite an arm that was beginning to ache, as David tooted the horn and the Volvo disappeared around the bend.

Randi lowered her arm, relieving the ache in it, but not the one in her throat. It felt clogged with the emotion she’d been holding in ever since Matt had hugged her goodbye and climbed into the Volvo.

This was silly, she thought as she blinked back tears. He was with Jill and David, for heaven’s sake! And they’d only be gone ten days.

Still, this would be the longest she and Matt had ever been separated. He was her only child, her baby…

But he’s not a baby anymore,
her inner voice admonished.
He’s growing up. Get with it, Terhune! You can’t keep him tied to you forever, even if the ties are made of love.

Swiping at the tears with the flat of her hand, she turned toward the cottage. She ought to look on the bright side. Matt was in for a wonderful time. Moreover, the trip put him safely out of Travis McLean’s reach.

With this last thought, she heaved a sigh and collapsed
into a comfortable overstuffed chair in the living room. She’d done it. Matt was happily on his way to the land of the big mouse, and they’d finally seen the last of McLean.

“You hope,” she said to the empty cottage, then gave her head a shake as if to clear it of worry. Of course McLean was out of the picture now. He’d said goodbye to her and Matt that afternoon after their late lunch of crabs, hadn’t he? And without a word about seeing either of them again. She’d worried needlessly about that, too.

Or had she? For a man who’d said he’d be seeking involvement in his son’s life, Travis had seemed all too laid back when they parted. Cheerful, even.

What was he up to?

An hour later she was still sitting in the living room, her mind going over the day for clues. The morning had dawned bright and sunny and stayed that way, despite her secret hopes for a downpour, she was ashamed to admit. Travis arrived midmorning, well supplied with crabbing paraphernalia. This included several fish heads, which he’d pronounced excellent bait.

Matt had been beside himself with excitement, generously offering to handle the bait for his mother if she found it “too icky.”

“Oh?” she’d said, taking mock umbrage. “And just what makes you think I’d find them icky, young man?”

“Robbie’s mom thinks worms are icky,” he’d replied reasonably, “an’ fish heads are way bigger baits. Robbie says his mom thinks baits are icky—” he’d looked at Randi consideringly “—’cause she’s a girl.”

Randi made a mental note to talk to Robbie Spencer’s mother about the male-chauvinist views her son was espousing. “Oh, he does, does he?” she’d said.

Matt had nodded, his manner confiding as he informed her, “Robbie’s dad always has to put the baits on her hooks for her, y’know.”

She’d sputtered and searched for a suitable reply, but it
was Travis who’d supplied one for her. “Could be Robbie’s dad’s just bein’ helpful, Tiger. I mean, it’s the sorta thing a guy does for someone he cares about. Ever think, of that?”

He’d glanced at Randi while Matt pondered this. Without thinking about it, she’d thrown him a grateful smile. It had earned her a wink that left her slightly breathless.

“Well, yeah…” Matt had seemed to consider this new slant. Then his eyes had widened and he’d thrown the two of them a dazzling smile. “I guess dads care ‘bout moms just like they care ‘bout their kids, huh?”

Travis had chuckled affectionately ruffling the boy’s hair. “Uh, somethin’ like that, Tiger,” he’d said, meeting Randi’s eyes over Matt’s head.

She remembered swallowing and looking away, something she’d found herself doing a lot in McLean’s company.

The phone rang, jarring her out of her musings. Glad of the distraction, she headed for the wall phone in the kitchen, wondering who it could be. Jill and David had the number, but it hadn’t been all that long since they’d left.

“Hello?” she said catching it midring.

It
was
Jill. “The guys opted for a pit stop at the Dairy Queen,” she said, “so I grabbed the car phone. This just couldn’t wait.”

Randi felt a moment of alarm. “What is it?”

“‘It’ is someone named Travis, whose name drops from your son’s lips about once a minute. Randi, is this the Travis I think it is?”

Randi paused to clear her throat and gather her thoughts. In the rush surrounding their visit, the sisters hadn’t had a moment alone. Jill knew nothing about the latest with Travis McLean.

“Randi?” Jill prompted. “What’s going on?”

With a sigh, Randi told her most of it, apologizing for not having had the chance to explain earlier.

“Forget the apologies,” Jill said, obviously concerned.
“Good grief, Randi, what if he challenges you on Matt’s parentage, demands blood tests, demands parental rights?”

Randi sighed again, then told Jill the one item she’d neglected to reveal: that she’d admitted to McLean that he was Matt’s biological father.

“Oh, no-o-o,” Jill groaned.

Randi felt close to tears. “Yeah, a stupid move, but you had to be there, sis. He’d done some poking around and…and he already seemed so darned sure…”

“Don’t beat on yourself, sweetheart. From the way you’ve described him, it was probably only a matter of time till he went after conclusive proof, anyway. The problem is, what are you gonna do now?”

“Do? What
can
I do? Besides hoping we’ve seen the last of him.”

“I don’t know, sis. He sounds mighty determined, if you ask me. And Matt’s talking him up as if he’s the greatest thing since—Uh-oh, speak of the little devil. Look, let me think about this and we’ll talk later, okay?”

They said goodbye, leaving Randi alone with her troubling thoughts. But confiding in her sister had made her feel better. Jill had always been her best sounding board. What would she ever have done over the years without her?

Unbidden, the silent voice she was beginning to hate intruded.
And what will your son do without brothers or sisters at all? Who’ll be his
sounding board in the years to come?

“It’s not the same thing,” she said aloud. “Jill and I
had
to lean on each other. We were orphans. But Matt isn’t! He has a mother. And Jill and David, who are crazy about him, plan on having a family—kids who’ll be his cousins. He’ll have loads of people to confide in.”

Yet even as she said the words, she wondered why they didn’t reassure her.

T
AKING
J
ILL’S ADVICE
, Randi decided to make the most of the rare chunk of time to herself. She took a long relaxing
bath—a luxury, since her busy routine rarely allowed for anything more than a quick shower. She felt almost wicked lounging in water liberally laced with her favorite scent.

Afterward she pulled on an oversize T-shirt and cutoffs, then grabbed the novel Jill had left her. It had been ages since she’d curled up with a book that wasn’t related to her profession. This would be fun!

Humming to herself, she poured a glass of iced tea and padded toward the living-room couch with the book. Maybe she’d read into the wee hours, especially if the book was as good as Jill had promised. Then she’d sleep till noon if she felt like it!

The couch was squishy and soft, perfect for being lazy. She’d left the windows open, and now she took a deep breath, savoring the sea-scented air. Sipping her tea, she opened the book—and heard a knock at the door.

“Who on earth…?” she muttered. Though dark out, it was still early; even so…

“Who is it?” she asked uneasily. She peered cautiously through the peephole, glad she’d locked the door. All she could see was a wrinkled white shirt.

“Just a friendly neighbor come to call, sugar,” said a familiar male voice. Travis. She should have guessed.

With a sigh that didn’t begin to express a host of conflicting feelings, she fumbled with the latch. One part of her acknowledged dismally that she’d been expecting him. Another told her to get rid of him in no uncertain terms. He didn’t belong here, period. But there was yet another part of her that experienced a tiny shiver of anticipation.

She ignored it.

Annoyance stamped her features when she flung open the door. “What do you want, McLean?”

“Tsk-tsk, don’t frown so, sugar,” he said, touching a finger to her brow. “My mama always told my sister she’d
regret it when she reached, uh, a certain age. And Mama’s usually right about these things—wrinkles, y’know.”

Batting his hand away, Randi eyed him warily. Casually dressed, he reminded her of a male model in an ad for beachwear. In faded cutoffs and a shirt of crinkled gauze so thin you could see his tan through it. Sun-bleached hair and a pair of Docksiders without socks completed the look. He oozed potent charm, with a masculinity so blatant it was positively sinful.

Despite the urge to retreat from the sheer physical force of him, Randi held her ground. “You haven’t answered my question, McLean. What do you want?”

He heaved a sigh. What he wanted was a future that included his son. But now wasn’t the time to tell her that. And, in fact, it wasn’t his immediate objective. The kid was on his way to Orlando. Time to concentrate on the other essential part of his plan: Matt’s lovely mother.

Nothing could happen between him and the boy without her. But who was Randi Terhune, really? What, besides love for her kid, made this woman tick?

She was clearly being protective of her son, and no fault in that. But there’d been times, in the past couple of days, when he’d glimpsed something else. Something that went beyond suspicion of his motives regarding Matt. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he sensed it. A kind of wariness that wasn’t hooked to her role as a mother. She appeared at times almost fearful. She’d begin to loosen up, then suddenly close and back away. Like a doe unsure of herself in a forest that ought to be familiar. What was behind it?

Travis smiled. He was here to find out.

“Oh, nothin’ much,” he drawled, his voice so lazy and offhand she suspected it was deliberate. “I merely got to thinkin’, sugar. Y’know, ‘bout how you were all by your lonesome over here, what with the little guy gone ‘n’ all. So I said to myself maybe you could use a little company.”

He grinned at her, affecting a boyish shrug. “And here I am—your personal anti-lonesome committee of one.”

“McLean, I don’t need a—”

“Oops!” he cut in, reaching down for something beside the door. “Almost forgot these.”

The protest died on her lips as she took in the enormous bouquet of flowers. Not hothouse flowers from some florist’s refrigerator. These were wildflowers, picked at the height of their midsummer glory. Daisies and field poppies and black-eyed Susans and cornflowers.

Wildflowers. Her favorite.

“They’re…they’re beautiful,” she stammered. “I…uh, thank you, Travis.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” And before she knew it, he’d closed the door and was moving past her into the hallway. “Kinda like ‘em myself. Used to pick ‘em for my mama when I was a kid. Must be thirty years since I last did it, though.”

“Look, Travis, I—”

“Now, we’ll need to put ‘em in water before they wilt. Uh, kitchen in here?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thought so.” He flicked on the light as Randi followed him helplessly into the kitchen, feeling like Dorothy caught in a tornado bound for Oz.

He headed for the sink. “This place come with any vases, sugar? ‘Course, an ol’ jar’ll do.” He began opening cabinets, rummaging. “Might even be better. Wildflowers look silly all gussied up in a…Ah, here we go.” He held up a mason jar. “What do you think?”

She was thinking she’d been run over by a blond sixfoot-five bulldozer, but the boyish query on the bulldozer’s face kept her from saying so. God, he looked so much like Matt when his brows lifted that way! With a helpless shrug, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Minutes later the bouquet was resting in water and set
in the middle of the kitchen table. Fortunately the time it took to accomplish this had allowed Randi to sort out her thoughts. “They’re lovely, Travis, and I do thank you, but now I really have to ask you to-…”

Her words died on her tongue. He was looking at her in a way she recognized all too well. Too late, she remembered how she was dressed. In skimpy cutoffs and a T-shirt with nothing underneath.

She froze, all too aware of the cool breeze that ruffled the kitchen curtains, that made her nipples tighten and thrust against the soft fabric.

Travis caught her stiffened posture and dragged his eyes away, quickly focusing on a point above her head. The display had made his mouth go dry. Lord, she was something! High full breasts and legs that didn’t quit. Did she have any idea how she…

But of course she did. And for some crazy reason, she was suddenly strung tighter than a kite. She wasn’t merely uncomfortable, either. Dammit, she was terrified!

Deeply puzzled, he nonetheless sensed this was no time to ponder her reaction.
So switch gears, McLean!

“I swear I’m as thirsty as those flowers,” he managed in a casual tone. “Okay if I have a glass of water?”

Without waiting for a reply, he moved to the sink, opening a cabinet beside it to grab a glass. “Tell you what, darlin’,” he went on, not looking at her as he turned on the faucet and filled a tumbler. “It’s a perfect evenin’ for a stroll on the beach. A might chilly, though. Why don’t you go put on somethin’ warm ‘n’ help me sample some of that salty air?”

Randi leapt at the chance to escape. Without thinking, she murmured something about a pair of sweats and hurried from the kitchen. In the bedroom, she was pulling a baggy sweatshirt and pants out of a drawer when the realization hit: she’d accepted an invitation she ought to have rejected.

She’d give a lot to know how he’d managed it. She’d
been set on saying no, and before she knew it, he had her saying yes. With a sigh, she pulled on the sweats and made a mental note to be more on her guard.