Jake's Bride (Search For Love) Read online

  "I see."

  Sara wasn't sure Jake really understood. She'd decided she couldn't center her life around him. She needed to have her own goals. "I might be late. The supervisor said after we talk, she'd like me to stay and see how the facility is run."

  Jake shrugged. "Tell Eloise I'll keep Christopher. I'll just make something on the grill for supper."

  "You're sure? If you're trying to get something else done, he can be a handful..."

  "I'm capable of taking care of my son and making supper. You do it all the time."

  Yes, she did. But she'd had three years of practice. She wasn't about to say that and take the lid off Pandora's box again. "Would you like something before you turn in? I made a casserole for supper that I can heat up."

  Jake's gaze again passed over her legs and came to rest on her lips. "No. Food doesn't hold any appeal right now." The huskiness in his voice told her that he was thinking about the kisses they'd shared, the desire that hummed between them. But she wouldn't sacrifice her dignity again. She would not be the one to give into desire. Not after what Jake had said.

  "Has Christopher had any more bad dreams?" he asked.

  "No. But I've been leaving on the hall light." She made herself break eye contact and stand. "I'm glad you're back, Jake. Christopher and I both missed you."

  He cocked his head and studied her carefully as if looking for the truth. She didn't want her every word to be suspect. She didn't want to have to watch what she said. So instead of standing there and letting him search, she said, "Good night," and headed for the stairs.

  #

  Thursday afternoon, Jake used the pruning sheers on the bushes while he watched Christopher play on the swing. As he clipped the crepe myrtle, he thought about this last trip. Usually, he didn't mind traveling. But this trip, the whole time he'd been away he'd thought about...Christopher--what he was doing, how he was doing it, whether he slept through the night.

  "Daddy, look!" The command came from a few feet away.

  Jake looked up and felt his heart stop. His son was standing, actually standing, at the top of the sliding board. Jake dropped the shears and his legs ate up the distance in seconds.

  Holding Christopher at the waist, he told him, "You don't stand at the top. You could fall. Sit and slide down."

  Christopher's brown eyes showed surprise, then defiance. "Don't wanna sit."

  "Sit down, Christopher."

  "No."

  The screen on the porch slammed and Sara came down the steps into the yard. She wore a cornflower blue suit, the same color as her eyes. Her white high heels were simple but showed the curves of her legs to perfection. As she came toward him, Jake took a deep breath.

  Seeing his mother, Christopher sat at the top of the slide looking as angelic as any three-year-old could. Suddenly Jake realized Christopher was testing him, seeing how far he could go. Like any child he was trying to push the boundaries as far as he could.

  Sara patted her son's knee. "I have to leave or I'll be late."

  "Go ahead," Jake urged, arching a brow at his son. "We're fine."

  Doubt flickered in Sara's eyes, but Jake had to give her credit, she didn't voice what she was thinking. She was really trying to let him develop his own relationship with his son. That couldn't be easy for her after having him all to herself.

  She gave Christopher a last loving smile and a wave, then walked along the path leading to the front of the house. As the sun shone on her head, red highlights sparkled. With each step, her hips swayed and Jake felt a tightness he recognized all too well. He'd hoped his trip had given him some perspective, but his body didn't know one perspective from the other. He was attracted to Sara and he'd have to live with it.

  Christopher slid down the sliding board landing unsteadily on his feet. Running around to the ladder, he climbed to the top again, and promptly stood as if daring Jake to scold him.

  So much for perspective.

  Four hours later, Jake glanced at his watch then back at the mess in the kitchen. Groceries lay scattered across the counter. Christopher sat on the floor in the midst of strips of unrolled paper towels, plastic containers filled with water from the bathroom sink, and a variety of pots and pans. His son wore one of the lids on his head.

  Sara made taking care of their son and the house look easy. It wasn't...unless she knew some secret she hadn't shared. Of course, Jake hadn't let her share much, preferring to learn about his son himself. He'd learned a bookful this afternoon. She was right about Christopher wanting his own way. If Christopher didn't have Jake's full attention, he did everything he could to get it.

  The afternoon had been a battle of wills. Jake hadn't been around a lot when Davie was this age. He'd been too busy trying to make detective, trying to make the world a safer place. This afternoon, he'd realized how little he knew about disciplining a child. Davie had been an easy baby, a joyful toddler, an eager first grader. Mary Beth had handled the discipline and when Jake was around, Davie usually cuddled in his dad's lap for a story or simply played within reach.

  Christopher was more active, wanting to do or go. He was curious in a way Davie had never been. And when that curiosity was curbed...

  Jake recognized his own stubborn streak in his son, but wasn't sure how to deal with it. So he'd done the best he could by warning, cajoling, reasoning. Only Christopher had ignored most of it, doing what he damn well pleased. Finally, Jake had let him, not knowing what else to do, especially after their trip to the grocery store which had been a sheer nightmare.

  Jake heard the front door open. He ran his hand through his hair and mentally groaned. Wouldn't Sara get a kick out of this!

  He waited for her hoot of laughter or her gasp of surprise. But when she finally appeared in the doorway, she was silent. Christopher ran over to her and hugged her around the knees. His shorts were wet, his hands were sticky, and there was a smudge of chocolate on his forehead from the candy bar he'd picked up at the store and insisted on eating right there.

  She crouched down to him, unmindful of his sticky fingers. "Did you have a good afternoon?"

  Christopher glanced guiltily at Jake but then bobbed his head.

  Sara raised her chin and met Jake's gaze. "Did you have a good afternoon?"

  "I don't think 'good' quite characterizes it."

  A small smile played on her mouth, and she bit her lower lip.

  Jake suspected she was suppressing a grin.

  "I'm trying to get supper started," he said gruffly. He didn't like to be laughed at, but he deserved it after this fiasco.

  "I'll take Christopher upstairs and help him get cleaned up, then I'll help you with supper."

  It seemed like no time at all until Sara and Christopher returned to the kitchen. But instead of adding to the chaos, Christopher helped Sara pick up the pots, pans, and paper towels.

  Jake had managed to wipe up most of the water.

  When Christopher settled on the living room floor to build with a set of blocks, Jake asked Sara, "How do you do it?"

  Turning from the lettuce she'd torn apart for the salad, she asked, "Do what?"

  "Watch him and get anything done!"

  She didn't laugh as he suspected she might. "It took practice."

  He hung a wet towel on the handle of the stove. "I could practice from now until doomsday--"

  "Jake, he was testing his boundaries."

  "I figured that out. I just didn't know what to do about it." Admitting that was tough for Jake. He was used to knowing what to do, rarely confused about what direction to take.

  Sara sliced a carrot into the salad. "I use time-outs with Christopher."

  Jake stood beside her, watching her slender fingers. "And they are...?"

  "When he does something he's not supposed to do or doesn't listen, he has to sit in a specified chair for three, five, or seven minutes. I set a timer. I should have told you about it, but I thought you'd want to find your own way of dealing with him."

  "In other words, yo
u didn't think I'd listen to you."

  Sara diplomatically kept silent and sliced a cucumber.

  Jake mowed his hand through his hair. "I found out today how different kids are. Because I was a father once, I thought I could do it the same. But each child is as individual as his name."

  "Christopher reminds you of Davie." She said it softly, not pressing too hard.

  He leaned against the counter. "Yes. But today I really saw them as two different boys. They might look alike, but Christopher is Christopher."

  The only sound in the kitchen was Sara slicing the cucumber.

  He realized all the things she could say, how she could resent him for not seeing Christopher as unique all along. But she kept silent.

  Jake remarked, "He can be a little tornado. I guess you know what works with him."

  "Not all the time," she said in a tone that let him know she understood the afternoon he'd experienced.

  She was letting him keep his pride, telling him subtly that she didn't have all the answers, either. But where their son was concerned, she knew a hell of a lot more than he did. "Time outs, huh?"

  She put down the knife. "Time outs and lots of hugs. You're good with Christopher, Jake."

  "Yeah, I guess I'm not too bad. The house was still standing when you got home."

  She laughed at his wry humor, and he had to smile back. He also felt compelled to move closer, to breathe in the enticing scent of lingering perfume, to watch her breasts rise and fall with each breath.

  Sara saw the frustration leave Jake's face, saw the golden desire flash in his eyes before he moved closer. Her hand, resting on the counter, began to tremble. She and Jake had managed to have a normal conversation. They'd worked together cleaning up and starting supper, as if they shared a common bond, as if they were working side by side like a husband and wife. And he'd realized Christopher was unique in his own right. Maybe now the pain from Davie's death would diminish and he could find joy in this son.

  She wanted Jake to kiss her. She wanted it so much she was shaking. But what would Jake's reaction be afterward? The same as the other night?

  As his head bent to hers, she knew she couldn't let him kiss her until she found out his motive. Before his lips could touch hers, she whispered, "Is this another test?"

  He raised his head and frowned, his voice husky. "I guess I deserved that." Moving away as if her interruption had brought him to his senses, he said, "I'll start the hamburgers on the grill."

  Sara wished she hadn't said anything, had let the kiss happen. But she couldn't take that chance, not if she wanted Jake to respect her. She had to start with that.

  A few hours later, Sara put Christopher to bed. While Jake read their son a story, she went out on the back porch to enjoy the quiet, to let a bit of peace surround her soul. When she heard Jake's footsteps in the kitchen, she didn't expect him to come out and join her. But tonight instead of heading to his office, he came out onto the porch.

  Leaning against the wrought iron railing, he crossed one foot over the other. He looked relaxed, but Sara knew better. Jake never did anything without a reason.

  "How did the interview go today?"

  The late day warmth still lingered in the air although the temperature had dropped. With Jake standing on the porch with her, the warmth took precedence. "It went very well. I can have the job if I want it when the program director goes on maternity leave in a few months."

  "I'd prefer if you don't take the job."

  She sighed. "You want me to stay here with Christopher."

  "Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?"

  "No. But I'd feel better if I'm contributing to our income."

  "You don't need to work, Sara. I can support us. It's more important that you raise our son." After a tense silence, he added, "Or do you want a job for other reasons?"

  "Like...?"

  "Maybe you need to stash some money away in case you want to bail out."

  All she could do was reassure him, if he wanted reassurance. These days, she didn't know what he wanted. "I have no intention of bailing out. But maybe you'd like to think I will. Are you hoping I don't stay? Then your responsibility for us would be over. You could say you tried but it just didn't work."

  He uncrossed his feet and straightened against the balustrade. "Don't be ridiculous. Now that I know I have a son, my responsibility toward him will never end."

  "Yes, you've made that clear. My responsibility for him will never end, either."

  "Your responsibilities are different. He needs you with him. And now you can be. You don't have to work."

  If she relied on Jake to support them, he'd suspect her motives. But if she took the job, he might resent her even more. "I have to think about it, Jake. I'll let you know what I decide."

  "No unilateral decision about Christopher. Wasn't that the deal?"

  "And as you told me when you bought the jungle gym, I've listened to you, and now I have to make up my own mind."

  Jake pushed away from the railing and was close enough that she could see the tiny scar on his left cheekbone. Instead of angry, his voice was amazingly gentle. "When you make up your mind, try to think about what Christopher needs, not about what's going on between you and me."

  She wasn't sure what was going on between her and Jake. But it would be easy to put Christopher first, she'd done that since she found out she was pregnant.

  Chapter Five

  On Saturday afternoon, Jake's headband caught the sweat as he dribbled the basketball around Nathan, aimed, and shot. The ball danced around the rim, teetered, and fell over the side. Jake swore, grabbed for the ball to rebound, but Nathan was quicker.

  He dribbled the ball in front of his opponent. "Playing hard today, aren't you?"

  Jake swayed back and forth, ready to guard, ready to jump. "I'm playing like I always play--to win."

  Nathan went for the basket, but Jake blocked him, almost knocking them both over as he grabbed for the ball. Nathan stooped with his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath. "Let's say you win and give it a rest."

  Jake shook his head. "Uh uh. I need the workout. Getting too old for this?" he needled.

  Nathan suddenly stole the ball from his friend and casually dribbled it between his feet. "You played with Oscar, Lorenzo and Joe before I got here."

  Jake came around the community center once or twice a week to mingle with the kids, to remind himself how much he had needed a role model at their age. "They're seventeen. No strategy. Now you...I have to use my brain as well as my reflexes when I go against you." Picking up his bottle of water on the sidelines, Jake took a few swallows.

  "So, how's the marriage going?"

  Jake took another swallow then set the bottle on the ground once more. "Subtle, Bradley. Like an eighteen wheeler. At least with Gillian, she gives me a lead-in before she probes."

  Nathan shrugged. "Gillian says you're as tight as a clam on this subject. What gives?"

  Jake swiped the ball from Nathan, aimed, and sank it. "Nothing. Sara and I concentrate on Christopher."

  Nathan's voice floated over Jake's shoulder. "Twenty-four hours a day? After he's in bed?"

  Jake shrugged, as if he hadn't spent more than one hour in his office, so distracted by Sara's presence in the house that he couldn't concentrate. "You know what it takes to be a parent. I'm learning how to handle him." Jake grimaced, remembering Thursday afternoon when he'd lost control of the situation. "And he's learning to handle me."

  Nathan grinned. "You mean get away with murder. The girls tried that with Gillian but she was too smart to fall into that trap. We stood together and they realized they couldn't bamboozle either one of us." He paused. "Are you and Sara standing together?"

  "We're trying." Jake retrieved the ball and jogged back. He gazed at the building that could use a good sandblasting, the teenagers shooting baskets at the other end of the lot, the few gathered on the asphalt watching the others. "Not many kids here today."

  Nathan didn't
accept the change of subject. "You can't ignore your marriage."

  Jake knew his friend wouldn't give up once he'd started something. "Ignore it? I'm trying to deal with it," Jake shot back. Nathan only pried because he thought he could help, but the prying was irritating nonetheless.

  "Have you ever considered how Davie's death affected you?" Nathan asked, his eyes serious.

  Silence fell between them. Finally, Jake broke it. "Of course, I have. His death is the reason I quit being a cop, the reason my marriage fell apart!"

  "More than that. It made you trust nobody but yourself. It was bad enough being a cop. You had to depend on your gut instinct, your training, your reflexes. But when it came to Davie, even those skills weren't enough."

  "So what's your point?"

  Nathan shifted on his sneakers, but didn't back down. "You don't give of yourself easily. Your guard is up most of the time."

  "I let it down once with Sara," Jake murmured, remembering that one night, when she'd held him, when she'd cried his name in ecstasy...

  "Are you giving her a chance now?"

  Jake closed his mind to the pictures. "A chance to burn me again? I don't think so. I'm not stupid."

  "No, you're not. You're angry. About the way you had to grow up too fast, your mother's death, Davie, your divorce, Sara leaving you at the altar. What's that anger going to get you?"

  Jake snapped the ball to his friend and Nathan caught it reflexively. "Protection. Like a bullet proof vest. Don't worry about me, Nathan. I know the score and so does Sara. We're aiming at peaceful coexistence. The fates willing, one day we'll have it." A voice asked, Peaceful coexistence? Is that why you were ready to kiss her again?

  Jake shut out the voice. The longer he was around Sara, the less she'd affect him.

  Nathan dribbled the ball in front of Jake. "Christmas is coming fast."

  The comment seemed entirely out of context. "So?" He tensed his arms, ready to move in either direction.

  "Maybe it'll bring the peace you want to find. Maybe it will bring even more."

  Jake didn't get the chance to mull over Nathan's words. His friend feinted to the left, then the right, and made a basket.