Wild Honey (8 page)

And she was the prey.

Quelling a shudder, she tried to think rationally. She needed to learn what he wanted. The sooner she knew, the sooner she could muster her defenses. You were only a victim if you allowed it, she told herself, and she’d be damned if she’d ever let it happen—she nearly added
again,
but cut off the thought. The past was dead, damn it!

Though she wasn’t thrilled to make use of the bonded sitter the rental agency had recommended, she had a feeling they’d better have this talk. “Okay, McLean, when and where?”

Travis grinned at her. “It’s Travis, remember?”

Randi ignored him—or tried to; when he grinned like that, those deep grooves in his cheeks did something strange to her insides.

“There’s an out-of-the-way oyster bar off Route 13, not too far from here,” she said, feeling better by taking the initiative. “It’s called Ollie’s. The setup’s conducive to talking privately. I suppose we could meet there.”

“Done,” Travis said, “and I’ll buy you lunch. One o’clock okay?”

Randi hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll see you there, then.” She turned to go.

“Oh, Randi?” he called after her. He saw her freeze, as if the sound of her nickname had been unexpected. She turned toward him.

“Just wanted you to know,” he told her, “my aim isn’t to threaten you, honey. Don’t lose any sleep over it, huh?”

Looking vexed—he couldn’t decide if it was because of his “honey” or her sheer disbelief—she uttered an irritated huff and stalked off.

Probably both, he decided as he watched her go. Not that he blamed her. But he really did have nonthreatening motives,
he told himself, and he had every confidence he’d make them clear to her tomorrow.

Of course, he mused as he went to retrieve his towel, first he had to figure out what they were.

“W
HY,
WHY
DID
I agree to this?” Randi muttered as she drove along Route 13 toward Ollie’s. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked herself the question. She’d tossed and turned half the night with it. In fact, she’d regretted the lunch date with McLean minutes after she’d made it.

“Hah!” she groused in self-disgust. “The minute you escaped his indecently handsome presence, you mean!”

Yet she knew her reasons for accepting were far more complex. His reassuring words aside, she could think of nothing about Travis McLean’s sudden appearance that boded well for her and Matt. As far as she was concerned, he was the enemy, and enemies had to be faced and fought, or…

Unable to complete the thought, Randi quelled a shiver that had nothing to do with the Cherokee’s air-conditioning.

Minutes later she pulled into the oyster bar’s parking lot. A glance at the dashboard clock told her it was severalminutes to one. Good. Maybe he hadn’t arrived yet; she’d have the advantage of being calmly in place before he did. She needed every advantage she could get.

The day was slightly overcast, hot and humid. She nearly gasped when she climbed out of the Jeep and the thick air hit her like a wall. The tables on the deck were empty, yet the number of cars in the lot indicated a good lunchtime crowd; obviously everybody was inside. At least she’d chosen a place with air-conditioning.

The thought made her grab the gauze shirt-jacket that
matched her khakis. She locked the Cherokee and made for the entrance. She already felt moisture gathering at the, waist of the melon knit shell she’d tucked into the khakis; and at the nape of her neck her long French braid felt damp and heavy. She hurried toward the tinted glass doors; as she approached, one swung wide.

“You’re early I see.” Travis’s smile as he held the door for her was exactly like Matt’s.

She swallowed nervously and mustered a return smile. “Is that a problem?”

“Hell, no, sugar.” He caught the hostess’s eye and waited for Randi to precede him as they followed the woman. “I made the reservation for twelve-thirty,” he added from somewhere just over her right shoulder.

She halted and turned toward him, taken aback; she quickly raised the shirt-jacket to her shoulders to cover her reaction. Damn him. He already had her off balance. “But why? Didn’t we agree on one o’clock?”

In a movement smooth as silk, he assisted her, settling the khaki gauze carefully on her shoulders. She tried to ignore the tingle where his fingers grazed bare skin. Touching a hand lightly to her back, he guided her forward, grinning down at her. “Rule number sixteen,” he said.

“Rule number…” she murmured. “Of what?”

He chuckled as they reached a quiet corner table where a half-full glass of white wine indicated he’d been served while waiting. “Of the Southern Gentleman’s Rules to Live By,” he drawled as he seated her.

“I see,” Randi said as he took his seat across from her. “And what does rule number sixteen say?”

Travis gave the hostess a dazzling smile of thanks as she handed them menus. Then he turned the full power of his vivid blue gaze on Randi and grinned mischievously; both the eyes and the grin reminded her of Matt.

“Rule number sixteen? Well, accordin’ to my mama, a gentleman not only never keeps a lady waitin’, he tries to
see no one else does, either. So while they kept
me
waitin’ twenty minutes for this table, you, ma’am, haven’t had to wait at all.” He winked at her. “Smart woman, my mama.”

Not half as smart as her son, I’ll bet.
Burying her nose in the menu, Randi decided to stop wondering how he’d known just when to leave his glass of wine and be waiting at the door at precisely the moment she arrived. He had her utterly discomposed as it was.

A waitress who announced her name was Sally Ann, took their orders, including a white-wine spritzer for Randi. Travis declined a second drink, raising what remained of his wine to propose a toast when Randi’s arrived.

“To you, pretty lady, and that fine boy you’ve raised. May this vacation be all you’ve wanted it to be—and more.”

Randi eyed him steadily, despite her irritation. The vacation was already far more than she wanted it to be! “May it be all we wanted it to be,” she echoed.
And the “more” can go to hell.
She smiled smugly at him and took a sip.

“So, where’s the little tiger now?” he asked casually.

“I left him at the cottage with a sitter. But I imagine she’s taken him to the beach, even though it’s overcast. Matt loves the water.”

“A sitter, huh?” He realized he’d been the one to suggest meeting without Matt in attendance, but he suddenly found himself worrying; from what he’d read, you couldn’t be too careful about sitters these days. “Someone you’ve used before?”

“No, but I did speak at length with Mrs. Lake after I contacted the agency. She’s an old sweetie.”

Travis lowered his wineglass and eyed her sharply. “An
old
sweetie? Just how old?” He had disturbing images of a tottering senior citizen, too decrepit to monitor his son, especially near water.

Randi set her glass down abruptly and met his gaze. “I have no idea how old she is. I do know, however, that she
comes highly recommended by the agency and has excellent references.”

She felt her irritation rising. It had been difficult enough for her to use an unknown sitter, but Mrs. Lake’s references were impeccable, Matt had taken to her right away, and Randi had felt the situation warranted using a sitter; she certainly hadn’t been about to involve Matt in this meeting. And besides, what business was it of McLean’s anyway?

“You checked the references?” Travis questioned, then noted the warning glitter in Randi’s eyes and sought to soften his query. “I mean, you can’t be too careful with kids around water. I s’pose you asked if the old sweetie can swim?”

“As a matter of fact, Mr. McLean, she happens to have a certificate in life-saving from the Red Cross.” She ground this out between clenched teeth.

“Whoa, there, sugar!” He held up his hands as if to ward her off. “I was just wonderin’ how one goes about these things. Findin’ a reliable sitter, I mean.”

He gave his head a doubtful shake. “I reckon it can’t be easy. You don’t have a problem with hirin’ unknown help?”

“No,” Randi said, throwing down her napkin, “but I do have a problem with
you.”
Rising swiftly, she grabbed her purse and narrowed her eyes at him. “Mr. McLean, I agreed to meet with you today as a courtesy.
Not
as. a candidate for the third degree! Thank you for the drink,” she added in clipped syllables, and turned to leave.

“Randi, wait.” Travis cursed himself for his clumsy handling of the situation as he rose to stay her with a hand on her arm. What the hell was wrong with him? “I apologize…truly,” he added when she didn’t budge an inch.

A rueful boyish smile accompanied the gaze that zeroed in on hers. “Please don’t leave. I was bein’ ungracious in the extreme, and I’m sorry. If I promise to explain-uh,
not excuse myself, mind, but just explain where I was comin’ from—will you stay ‘n’ hear me out?”

She heaved a sigh. When he looked at her like that, she suspected there wasn’t a woman alive who’d deny him anything. Herself included, she thought with annoyance. With a stiff nod, she sank back onto the chair he adroitly held for her.

“It’d better be good,” she warned as he resumed sitting with that same boyish smile in place.

Good?
he thought. There was little that was good, exactly, or that he was proud of, in what he was about to tell her. Still, he’d determined it was necessary if he was ever going to get her to trust him. He’d made up his mind to it last night, as he’d tried to sort out what it was he wanted in this bizarre situation involving the child they’d brought into the world.

Having discovered Matt’s existence, he knew it was impossible to go back. No way could he imagine his life now without the kid’s presence. He wasn’t sure yet what form that presence would take, but he desperately wanted to forge some kind of a link between himself and his son. But to do that, he needed Randi’s cooperation. And trust. It all came down to trust.

And so, without stopping to second-guess his decision, Travis found himself revealing more about himself than he’d ever told anyone. He told her first about the night he’d foolishly accepted the dare. And then about the doubt. The stabs of guilt over helping to bring into the world a child he wouldn’t be around to parent. And finally, in halting tones, of the less-than-satisfactory relationship with his own father. The father who was never there for him as a child, not physically, not emotionally.

Randi was silent as she heard him out, but she found herself caught in a range of emotions she hadn’t been prepared to feel: surprise, at his candor over the incident that prompted his sperm donation; amazement tinged with cha-
grin, at his decision to leave medicine after most of the grueling preparation was behind him; and sympathy, for the child he’d been, whose father had never participated in his life.

This last, especially, pulled at her. Her own father had been a warm, loving presence in his daughters’ lives before he died. How many times had she heard Jill say it was her memory of Daddy, more than any other single force, that had helped her past the abuse she’d suffered? Past what could have been a terror of all men.

Daddy, with his strong arms and ready laughter. She could still see him, reading bedtime stories to Jill and her on the nights Mom was too tired, hugging her seven-yearold self after a spill from her bike—and patiently mending the gash in the tire that had caused it. Daddy, who had always been there, cheering his daughters on at girls’ midget softball, taking them to the movies on rainy Saturday afternoons, teasing Randi out of “the grumps,” as he’d called them, when she’d had the measles and couldn’t go on a class trip….

Lord in heaven, what would her childhood have been like without him? But she had her answer: like what Travis was describing now.

“‘Course Mother was properly thrilled for me when we won that squash trophy,” Travis was saying. “But it wasn’t the same. Not as it would’ve been if
he’d
been there. Squash was my father’s game. Mother, bless her, didn’t understand the rules. But her husband wasn’t even in the country when I helped the team come from behind and win that tournament. He was in France deliverin’ a speech I later learned he could’ve arranged to deliver earlier in that week-long conference. But instead, he’d—Ah, hell.”

He looked up from the coffee he hadn’t touched and met Randi’s eyes. “Sorry. Guess I’ve been ramblin’. You’re likely bored to tears,” he added with a wry grin.

Randi’s face was solemn. “No,” she said softly. “No, I’m not. Please…go on.”

Travis shrugged. “There really isn’t much more to tell.” He paused reflectively, then leaned forward, holding her gaze. “‘Cept this. I haven’t told you these things to win your sympathy or, God forbid, your pity. I quit feelin’ sorry for myself long before I learned how to shave, Randi. And I won’t countenance that feelin’ in others.

“But I do know this,” he went on. “My childhood is one reason I made up my mind to be actively involved in the parentin’ of my own children someday. Actively involved, Randi, in the life of
any
child I might have…”

Randi gasped as the implication hit. Before she could speak, Travis grasped the hand she rested on the table and rushed on.

“Randi, try to understand. The shock and confusion I felt on seein’ Matt and then realizin’ who he is…” He met her gaze squarely, adding in a soft voice, “And he
is
my son, isn’t he? You haven’t denied it, but I’d sure appreciate it if we could be honest with each other-please? I swear, I mean y’all no harm. God as my witness, I’d cut off my arm before I allowed anythin’ to harm either of you.”

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice. Or the way he squeezed her hand and looked at her with that unselfconscious plea that was so like Matt’s. Or maybe it was just that she was tired of avoiding the truth with him, tired of trying to pretend. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and nodded.

Travis released her hand along with the breath he’d been holding. “Thanks for that. I ‘spect it couldn’t’ve been easy.”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite bring it off; for all she knew, that admission might have been the greatest mistake of her life. “Uh, you were saying?” she prompted.

“Yeah—’bout the way it was when I first laid eyes on the kid.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “Well, shock
and confusion don’t half describe it. It was disturbin’ enough to
imagine
a child I’d fathered out there in the world somewhere and me not around to nurture and…and love him. But think, Randi, how much more difficult it was to suddenly come across him in the flesh.”

Randi swallowed and nodded. She
did
see. For the first time since this entire frightening episode had begun. For the first time she was able to place herself in Travis McLean’s shoes. And in a way she wished this weren’t so. Suddenly a situation that had been alarming, but clear-cut where she was concerned, had taken on a complexity she wasn’t certain she could deal with.

“One minute I was gazin’ out my hospital window,” Travis was saying, “and the next—there he was! The spittin’ image of me as a kid! I tell you, lady, it was unnervin’. But after I picked myself up off the floor—”

“You started putting a few things together,” Randi interjected, knowing that was what she’d have done.

Travis grinned. “Yeah. First, there was this feelin’ I’d had, way back in the emergency room, that I’d met you before.” His eyes ran over her, the gleam in them appreciative. “Your hair was shorter then, but I’m unlikely to forget a pretty face, much less a beautiful one—Don’t you dare duck your head! You’re a beautiful woman, Randi Terhune, and I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

After a moment he went on, “Anyhow, it’d already dawned on me where I’d seen you before. Took me a while, but the image finally fell into place-just before I saw you ‘n’ Matt together, by the way. After that, I asked a few questions here ‘n’ there…”