
"You have no idea how much I love this child. I can't---won't---share him."
"You don't have a choice."
Looking at him, truly looking, Olivia's eyes softened. "You really do love him, don't you?"
Unable to find words, Tag nodded.
"Which puts us at an impasse."
Having regained some of his composure, he asked, "How so?"
Lifting her chin, she said, "You can follow me for the rest of my life, but I'm never giving you my son."
Dear Reader,
As I'm writing this, summer's over and I'm sending off all three of my "babies" to their senior year of high school. Never have I been more keenly aware of time and how precious every moment spent with family is. My daughter's been a cheerleader since sixth grade, and I'm already dreading her last game. I know it sounds corny, but all of that money Hubby and I pay for uniforms is worth every penny just to see the smile on her face when she completes a stunt or dances along with the band. My sons just keep getting taller and more handsome, and while back-to-school shopping I couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that this was it. My time as an "official" mom is almost up.
The reason I'm mentioning all of this is because in this story Olivia and Tag are put in an unenviable position when a judge tells them to split custody of their son. Considering they're total strangers, it's inconceivable to Olivia that she has to share the infant she'd carried for nine long months and has nurtured ever since. Tag thought having a son was an impossibility. Unfortunately, along with his tiny miracle comes an awful lot of drama! If someone told me I would have to "share" my kids, I have a feeling things would turn ugly in a real big hurry! Hmm...kind of like it does in this unlikely romance!
I so hope you enjoy Olivia and Tag's baby battle!
Laura Marie
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After college (Go, Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps.
When not immersed in her next story, Laura teaches art at a local middle school. In her free time, she beats her kids at video games, tackles Mount Laundry and of course reads romance!
Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail, BaliPalm@aol.com.
Love winning fun stuff? Check out www.lauramariealtom.com!
Books by Laura Marie Altom
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1028---BABIES AND BADGES
1043---SANTA BABY
1074---TEMPORARY DAD
1086---SAVING JOE\*
1099---MARRYING THE MARSHAL\*
1110---HIS BABY BONUS\*
1123---TO CATCH A HUSBAND\*
1132---DADDY DAYCARE
1147---HER MILITARY MAN
1165---SUMMER LOVIN'"A Baby on the Way"
1178---DANCING WITH DALTON
1211---THREE BOYS AND A BABY
1233---A DADDY FOR CHRISTMAS
1257---THE MARINE'S BABIES
1276---A WEDDING FOR BABY\*\*
This story is dedicated to Johanna Raisanen, my fab Harlequin American Romance editor.You are a delight to work with, and always make me smile.Thank you for making my words look so good!
P.S. I seriously missed drinking fuzzy navels with you in D.C.!
Contents
"Mr. O'Malley," a brunette receptionist said, rising upon Tag's entrance to H & R Lab. The place had sunshine-yellow walls covered in poster-size photos of grinning, chubby babies---he and his wife had secretly dubbed it the Willy Wonka Land of Fertility. "Welcome. We've been expecting you."
"Um, yeah." Tag had been under the impression that his requested presence was a routine maintenance thing. What was up with the warm welcome? He waved the certified letter he'd received, the one summoning him to be here at the appointed time. "Mind showing me where I'm supposed to be?"
"Sure," she said, already out from behind her desk. The twentysomething woman was so flustered, she nearly took out a potted plant. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to our conference room."
Truth be told, Tag had forgotten the sperm Maria had insisted he deposit. When "normal" methods of starting a family hadn't panned out, they'd turned to less conventional ways---such as artificial insemination.
With Maria gone, he'd abandoned all hope of ever having a family. She'd been his world. Now he filled his days with business and his nights with ESPN and frozen dinners.
"Here we are," the receptionist said, stopping at the open door of a windowless yellow room. More posters lined the walls. This time, smiling moms and dads had been added to the grinning, chubby babies. "Um, let me know if you need anything."
"That'll be all, Diane. Thank you." The nearest of six suit-wearing legal types rose, extending his hand for Tag to shake. "Welcome. I'm Neil Thurgood, chief legal counsel for H & R. Please have a seat."
Tag warily pulled out a chair. After sitting, it occurred to him that this whole setup looked more like an ambush than a routine meeting. "Gentlemen, why do I feel like you're about to tell me my best hunting dog died?"
His stab at humor was met with forced laughs.
Neil straightened his tie. "Yes, well, interesting you should mention a death when what we're essentially here to do is celebrate a life." The guy's smile looked more like a wince.
"Oh?" Tag's pulse raced to an uncomfortable degree.
"Yes, you see, while H & R takes pride in our standards of accuracy and discretion..." The waxen-faced man paused to drink from a water-filled glass. Gesturing to a silver platter holding a sweating pitcher and more glasses, he asked, "Care for a drink, Mr. O'Malley?"
Sure. But something a hell of a lot stronger than water. "No, thanks."
"All right, then," the man continued. "As I was saying, every so often, mistakes are made, and---"
Palms flat on the table, Tag said, "I'm a firm believer in saying it like it is, so if you don't mind, could you skip the tap routine and get to the point."
"Certainly," the man alongside Mr. Wax-Face said. "What we have here is a classic switcheroo. Cryogenic storage tanks were being cleaned. Your sample was inadvertently swapped with another. Bottom line, Mr. O'Malley, you have a son."
A son?
Tag wasn't the emotional type. He didn't cry over sappy movies, and he sure as hell wasn't prone to letting a little old meeting---ambush or not---drive him to his knees. But damned if this news didn't have him shaking and tearing up like a three-year-old who'd just been given a puppy for Christmas.
After all he'd been through in losing Maria...Any chance of them having the family they'd always dreamed of sharing, any shot of his finding his way back to a normal life---here it was. A do-over. All wrapped up in a shiny blue bow.
"Forgive me," Tag said, trying to get a grip on his welling emotions. "This news comes as a shock." He had so many questions. Where was the baby? Who was his mom? Would she willingly share custody? Did the baby have his brown eyes?
"Understandable," Neil said, shoving a thick stack of papers across the table. "Now, in anticipation of your surprise, we've prepared what we think is a more than equitable settlement package. If you'll be kind enough to sign here and here---" he pointed to two signature lines "---we'll then provide you with all pertinent information on the whereabouts of your son."
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, seated at the oversize oak desk in his fourteenth-floor corner office in downtown Little Rock, Tag swiped tears from his eyes. For all of the imposing, dark-stained paneling, leather-bound books and silver-framed photos of him with some of the most powerful people in the oil world, he felt as if the confidence this room typically inspired had been swept under the vintage Persian rugs.
Unable to sit still, he got up to pace the room, elated by the morning's news, but also terrified. Having been born into a big family, with plenty of boisterous backyard barbecues and holidays spent crammed around his mother's dining-room table, Tag had always wanted to be a dad, but he'd figured he'd get a heads-up on the whole parental thing. Somewhere around nine months.
Clearly, the suits at the lab had been terrified of a drawn-out, publicized lawsuit. Luckily for them, Tag could give a flip about assigning blame or being awarded a few bucks. The amount the lab had given him would more than pay for college tuition at a top-notch school.
Chuckling, he covered his face with his hands. This woozy, queasy sensation gnawing at his stomach was temporary. Just as soon as he held his little guy in his arms, Tag was going to be A-okay.
He walked over to his desk and punched the intercom button on his phone. "Alice, cancel everything for today. I'm headed for Valley View."
"Valley View?" His mind's eye clearly saw the middle-aged woman's raised brows---at least, what was left of them. She plucked them into severe lines dyed the exact shade of her also-dyed strawberry-blond hair. He knew, because she took off every six weeks to have it all done. "What do you have going on out there?"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." Especially since he hardly believed it himself. What if the lawyer's news turned out to be a cruel mistake? Valley View was a quaint town about thirty minutes northwest of Little Rock. Its claim to fame was antiquing, candy shops and bed-and-breakfasts---none of which had anything to do with the oil industry. His usual travels took him to Houston. Oklahoma City. And his busybody secretary knew it.
"Try me," Alice urged in person, pressing the disconnect button on her cordless phone. As the office gossip, she couldn't stand being left out of the loop.
"Let's just say that when I get back, I may need you to add a few duties to your daily schedule." Like changing diapers!
"THIS IS HEAVEN," Olivia Marshall said Friday afternoon, arching her head back to drink in late-winter sun and the intoxicating, earthy scent of soil exhaling after a bitterly cold January. "I could sit out here forever."
For February, the day was a treat. Temperatures in the high sixties without a breath of wind. Purple and yellow crocuses already bloomed in the garden around her small, still-covered lap pool. A few more days like this and redbuds would transform her winter-drab, forested backyard into a pink wonderland. On the brick patio circling a glass-topped table were her two best friends, Gabby and Stephanie.
Since Olivia had met Gabby and Steph in Lamaze class during their third trimesters, their four babies were about the same age, varying within a few weeks of the four-month mark---a boy for Olivia, twin girls for Steph and a boy for Gabby, too. Typically their get-togethers included their little ones. With the infants slathered in sunscreen and lounging on a blanket in the sun, the women shared homemade sangria, chips, salsa and plenty of laughs. A white picket fence separated the babies from the pool, meaning that even if all four magically figured out how to crawl, they'd still be safe.
"In the words of my handsome husband," Gabby said with an easy smile, "I concur."
Olivia rolled her eyes.
"I saw that." Scowling in Olivia's direction, Gabby said, "Just because you had a couple of bad blind dates doesn't mean you should swear off men forever."
"Stay out of it," Olivia said more tersely than she'd planned.
"What gives?" Steph asked before taking a sip of her wine. "I'm no expert on the law like you and Dane, but I'm pretty sure that on a day as gorgeous as this it's a crime to be bitchy."
"I know, and I'm sorry," Olivia said, "but those two dates Gabby set me up on proved all I needed to know---man is the enemy." She stood and headed for the picket-fence gate, unlatched it, then plucked her baby from where he'd fallen asleep on the blanket. Cradling him against her chest, she made the short walk out of the safety enclosure and relocked the gate.
"Right," Gabby defended. "The dates you asked me to get for you."
Shrugging, Olivia reclaimed her seat at the table. "I was high on love. Attending your wedding was the equivalent of OD'ing on frosting. You and Dane are the exception, not the rule."
"I don't know," Steph said, absentmindedly stirring her sangria with her straw, "Michael and I had an amazing marriage. I'd love to somehow find that sparkle again---especially if the guy knows how to change diapers."
After a sarcastic snort, Olivia wadded up her paper napkin and tossed it at her still-grinning friend.
USING HIS IPHONE for a map, Tag had found the single-level, redbrick colonial home housing his son in under forty minutes. He'd have done it in less if it hadn't been for a wreck on Rodney Parham. In Valley View, Hampstead Farms subdivision was newish, but the contractor had had the foresight to leave plenty of trees. The lots were at least an acre, giving the winding blacktop roads a country feel even though there was a T.G.I. Friday's and Walmart a mere mile away. Each home had been designed to look old. No shortage of brick, paned windows or shutters. All lawns were flawless. Probably the kind of neighborhood where it was frowned upon to leave old cars parked on the side of the quiet streets.
Five minutes in, past a lake complete with a gazebo, spraying fountain and swans, Tag had finally found the address he'd been given.
He stopped and let his Hummer idle in the middle of the road as he took it in. The place had a circle drive, in the center of which was a formal garden featuring a three-tiered white marble fountain. This time of year, only purple pansies and a midget-tulip thing were in bloom. He could only imagine what it would look like when spring had officially sprung.
While his initial instinct had been to charge right up to the front door, demanding to see his child, the two cars in the drive alerted him to the fact that the woman raising his child wasn't alone.
On the ride over, he'd had a business contact do a quick search on Olivia Marshall's background. Impeccable pretty much summed her up. Summa cum laude bachelor's in political science from Brown. Harvard Law. Fresh out of school she'd been hired by one of the top criminal defense firms in D.C. Five years in, with a truckload of stunning courtroom victories, she'd left D.C. for a downtown Valley View firm. Why? The aunt and uncle who'd raised her lived in a swanky Hot Springs retirement village. Only ninety minutes away, but still, not near enough to share an average weeknight dinner. Neither were in poor health. While Tag's pal hadn't had time to do a full financial inquiry, it took but a lick of horse sense to know the woman had to have taken a major pay cut. Not that it looked as if she was hurting, but still.
A sharp rap on the passenger-side window made him jump. "Holy crap on a pancake," he grumbled under his breath, clutching his chest. Like he wasn't already jumpy enough.
He pressed the down button on the window to find a thirtysomething woman with teased blond hair, a red velvet jogging suit and a diamond pendant dangling between what had to be surgically enhanced boobs. Somewhere at her feet a dog yapped, but the car was too high for Tag to catch the exact breed other than snappy and annoying. "Yes?"
"Are you lost?"
"No, why?" His annoyance level was off the charts.
"I'm Leona with the Alert Neighbors committee and seeing how I live right across the street, I couldn't help but notice you loitering."
He shrugged and said, "It's a free country."
"That may well be," she replied, "but here in Hampstead Farms we look out for each other, and you, sir, look suspicious. Please be on your way, or I'll call police." Never having lost her gracious smile or tone, she waved a rhinestone-covered cell.
Sensing this situation would best be squelched with sugar, Tag matched Leona's Southern hospitality with a little of his own. "Look, I'm sorry to have been rude. I'm actually a smidge frustrated, since I've been going around and around looking for a particular house, but having little luck."
"Why didn't you say so? What's the address?"
He told her.
She laughed. "Why, honey, that's right across the street. Are you a friend of Olivia's?"
"Um, yes." Assuming she peaceably allows me access to our son.
"Then you must be here for Lady's Day," Leona said with a flirty giggle, "but you're obviously no lady."
He forced a chuckle.
"Just pull right on in the drive." Pointing at Olivia Marshall's home, Leona resembled a flight attendant displaying a 737's emergency exits. Trouble was, for Tag, there was no easy way out. He needed to do this deed with military precision. Walk right up to the front door and make his intentions known. Seeing as how Ms. Marshall was an attorney, she should understand that since he'd never given his consent for his sperm to be used, she shouldn't have a legal leg to stand on when it came to sharing custody. "Thanks, will do."
Pulling his powerful vehicle into the drive took all of ten seconds. Summoning the nerve to tell a woman he would now be sharing the infant she considered to be hers might prove more difficult. But make no mistake---it would be done.
"WHO DO YOU KNOW who drives a monster SUV?" Gabby asked, returning to the patio after refilling the sangria pitcher.
"No one," Olivia said.
"Me, neither." Steph dragged a chip through the salsa.
Olivia looked up. "What's the relevance of the question?"
"Just curious. Whoever he was, Leona had him stopped for questioning." Gabby topped off everyone's glasses.
Laughing, Olivia said, "Lucky him. Leona takes her neighborhood patrol presidency very seriously. The other night she had me laughing so hard that---"
The doorbell rang.
"Probably her." Olivia pushed her chair back and stood. "This should be good. While she's here, I'll get her to tell you what she did to the teens intent on TP'ing Allyson Walker's house."
"Wasn't she Valley View High's homecoming queen this year?"
"Yep," Olivia called over her shoulder on the way to the door. "Leona was queen when she was in school, meaning she doesn't take lightly to anyone messing with royalty."
"Hey, girl," Olivia said, tugging open her heavy front door. "I was just telling the gang about---Oh. Can I help you?" Monster SUV Guy stood on her front porch. He'd taken the liberty of parking his massive vehicle at the foot of her stairs. With broad shoulders and a height towering over her, the dark-suited, dark-haired man matched his car. Larger than life.
"Tag O'Malley," he said, extending his right hand. "My apologies for interrupting this beautiful afternoon, but you and I need to talk."
"Why?" Olivia asked, still not fully opening the door, and certainly not about to shake the stranger's hand. "Because if you're selling something, I'm not interested."
He laughed. "Promise, I'm not about to haul out some vacuum cleaners or magazine subscriptions. This matter is a little more..." Expression pinched, he seemed to have a tough time finding just the right word. "Well, let's just say...delicate." Withdrawing a packet of documents from his suit coat's chest pocket, he handed them to her. "I just discovered that you and I share something very precious, and thought this a matter best handled face-to-face."
Olivia made quick work of scanning the documents, sheer will the only thing keeping her from blacking out. Obviously the man was deranged.
"You should've received similar documents from the lab. They said they'll be setting up a meeting." Still wearing expensive-looking sunglasses that shaded his eyes, he nodded toward the papers in her trembling hands.
"I haven't received papers or a call," she snapped.
"Have you checked your mail? Mine were courier-delivered, but since you already know you have a son, they might not have been as expedient in your notification."
Ignoring him, Olivia looked over the papers once more. The more she read, the more her stomach roiled. Above anything else, she'd wanted to be a mother. So much so, she'd resorted to artificial insemination. Her doctor had assured her that the lab they'd used was reliable, discreet and all donors had signed consent forms agreeing to play no part in the lives of any future children born of their seed. Olivia had spent hours reading donor profiles. Though no names were given, there were photos, IQ test results, thorough family history of health issues. Donor A-178954 had been the ideal father for her child. A PhD, he taught history at a small private college. His hobbies were sailing and horseback riding. He'd chosen to donate in honor of his deceased sister, who had never been able to conceive. In short, her baby's father was perfect. One hundred percent not the man standing on her porch.
"Allow me," the man said, jogging toward her mailbox at the end of her drive.
"Liv?" Gabby called from the patio. A warm breeze carried her voice through the screen door. "Everything all right?"
"S-sure," she replied. "Be back in a sec!" Just as soon as this lunatic climbed back into his house on wheels and got out of her life.
He was back, hand outstretched with a pile of mail. Water bill. Cable. Phone. Land's End catalog...
The next envelope had the return address of H & R Laboratory. The very sight caused Olivia's heart to skip. Trembling made opening the envelope no easy task, but once the deed was done, she saw that her initial paperwork was pretty much a mirror image of the man's standing before her. The lab manager was sorry. Blah, blah, blah. Bottom line, they claimed that instead of A-178954 being her baby's father, this Tag O'Malley character was. The fine print in the consent forms she'd signed released the lab of all responsibility should just such an incident arise.
Translation---as long as Olivia had gotten a baby, the lab didn't care where he or she had come from. Mr. O'Malley, on the other hand, would have signed very different forms. He certainly wouldn't have given away his parental rights the way her intended donor had. Meaning, if she didn't pull some legal strings---fast---she could possibly lose the precious baby she'd fought so hard to bring into her life.
"Again, sorry to just dump all of this on you. I thought by now you would've heard about our predicament." Slipping off his sunglasses to peer around her toward her home's shadowy interior, he asked, "Is there any way I might come in for a spell? More than anything, I'd like to see the baby."
Hot and dizzy and seriously on the verge of being sick, Olivia managed, "Um, sure." She stepped back, allowing him entry, and closed the door behind him.
"Thank you," he said, tone softer than it had previously been. He tucked his glasses into the same suit pocket where his paperwork had been stashed. "I know this must come as a shock, but I'm sure we can make this work."
"Of course." Her every instinct screamed to shut him out, but she also realized that, legally, he had rights she couldn't ignore. To do so would make her seem unreasonable, irrational and uncooperative. Judges hated every one of those traits. During countless trials she'd coached clients to at all times keep their cool.
"Liv!" Steph shouted from the patio. "Hurry! The babies are playing. Grab your camera!"
Tag O'Malley asked, "Is our son out there?"
Upon hearing the man refer to her baby as "our son," always unflappable, always in control Olivia crumpled to the floor.
"What did you do to her?" Tag glanced up from where he knelt on the floor to see a petite brunette charging at him like a ticked-off momma grizzly.
"I'm calling 9--1-1," said a corkscrew-curly blonde, who was right on the brunette's heels.
"Whoa," Tag said, giving Olivia Marshall's shoulder a gentle nudge. "Whatever happened to this little lady she managed all on her own. I was just standing here when she collapsed."
"Likely story," the brunette said, arms tightly folded.
"W-what happened?" The mother of Tag's son stirred, her moss-green eyes darting around the room.
"That's what we'd like to know," said the woman with the phone. She'd put it on speaker. Every ring annoyed Tag more.
"This is 9--1-1. Please state your emergency."
"There's a man in my friend's house." She hastily gave the address. "We think he hit our friend and---"
"Stop." Hand on her forehead, Olivia Marshall eased upright. Tag helped her to a sitting position. Sure, he hadn't been directly to blame for her fall, but the news he'd delivered hadn't helped. "There's no need to involve police."
"But he hurt you," the brunette pointed out.
"Ma'am," the tinny-voiced operator asked, "is everything all right? Would you like me to send an officer to your location?"
"No," Olivia said, hopefully loud enough for the dispatcher to hear. "Everything's fine."
"Just in case," the woman said, "I'm sending a patrol. Routine procedure following a distress call."
"Ladies..." Holding up his hands in the universal sign for surrender, Tag said, "Seriously, the last thing I wanted to do was upset anyone. I mean, I see why Ms. Marshall would understandably be upset, but I never dreamed she would faint." Shaking his head, Tag couldn't believe how what he'd prayed would be an unforgettable first meeting with his son had turned into a nightmare. Oh, for sure he wasn't likely to soon forget the scene, but for far different reasons than he'd expected. Even worse, he had yet to see his boy. Did the tiny fella look like him? Hopefully without the crooked nose Tag had inherited from Uncle Frank. "This isn't going at all how I'd expected. I'd just like to hold our son."
Olivia snorted. "Like you honestly thought you'd waltz into my home, demand that I hand over my baby and I wouldn't have a problem with it?"
"What?" the other women asked in unison.
"Whoa," he protested with his hands still held up. "For the record, I haven't demanded anything. I'm just trying to---"
"Not to leave you out of the loop," Olivia said to her friends, "but what's going on is a long story." When she struggled to stand, Tag gave her a hand up. Tension knotted her clenched arm muscles. Though it'd been a while since he'd touched a woman other than family, he could see this one's energy plainly read Back off. Once she was safely on her feet, he complied. "Sorry to cut the afternoon short, but it'd probably be best if you two left."
"Olivia..." The blonde took her hand. "Please tell us what he's done. We can help."
"No," Olivia said, pulling her friends into a huddle. While the ladies shared an impromptu whispered conference, during which he was the recipient of half a dozen cold stares, Tag inched past the elegant, marble-floored entry hall. On his left was a formal dining room featuring a crystal chandelier and table large enough to seat eight. On his right was a dark-paneled den. A marble fireplace was flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Nestled into a windowed alcove was an ornately carved desk holding dual, flat-screen computer monitors. The hard drive must have fit into an out-of-sight panel. Behind the desk was a feminine red leather executive chair. A fig tree and ferns, along with silver-framed photos and china figurines, lessened the room's severity, but did little to disguise the fact that Olivia Marshall was a female version of himself. Not a good thing, considering he was apparently gearing up for the battle of his life.
He'd just made it into a vaulted-ceiling living area when the angry momma grizzly shouted, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"
"Just checking out the place. Nice." He forced what he hoped came across as a charming smile.
From the patio came a baby's cry.
"That's Jack," the brunette said, already heading toward a screen door. Knowing his son, too, must be out there, Tag's pulse raced. Not caring whether or not he'd been invited deeper into the sanctity of Olivia's home, Tag beat the brunette to the door. Four infants lounged on a blanket in the sun, one now wailing. Jack? Meaning the only other infant dressed in boy clothes would be...
Longing crushed Tag's chest. He had to keep himself together. Not show his cards too early as to how desperately he wanted---needed---at least partial custody of his son.
On autopilot, Tag aimed for his child.
"Don't touch my baby!" Olivia charged up behind Tag, nudging him aside before he could scoop the infant into his arms. When she held the boy, tucking his downy head beneath her chin, she said, "I know my rights, and no matter what the lab says, I intend to have full DNA testing before entering into any negotiation with you."
With everything in him, Tag held firm to his control. His son had his Irish grandmother's red hair. Sure, Olivia was a redhead, but it was a different shade. Darker, not nearly as coppery. Most infants were born with blue eyes, but Tag's son's eyes were brown, like his.
"Please..." he managed, holding out his arms toward his child.
Olivia tightened her hold. "Your claim is preposterous. Mistakes like this don't happen. They just don't."
Tag cupped his hand to the infant's head, stroking hair as soft as a dandelion gone to seed. His throat was too tight for words. Bring it on, woman. I don't need some damned DNA test to tell me this baby is mine.
"I sympathize with you," she said, her friends watching. "Really I do, but---" Approaching sirens had her looking at the door they'd just come through. "Leave peacefully, and with both of our attorneys present, we'll make testing arrangements."
The siren's wail grew louder, and then was accompanied by the roar of a vehicle climbing the slight hill to Olivia's home.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. He was angry, hurt, confused. Yes, he understood that she was the child's mother, and as such, already had a bond. But what didn't she get about the fact that as the infant's father, he, too, had rights? Rights he fully intended to enforce. "This doesn't have to be handled in an adversarial manner."
The doorbell rang.
"I-I'll get it," the brunette said.
"Me, too." The blonde followed.
A brittle laugh escaped Olivia's bow-shaped mouth. "Try reversing our roles. Try carrying a child for nine brutal months, only to nearly lose him at the last second. Try memorizing his every noise and expression and sigh for four months. Nourishing him at your breasts. You try all of that, and maybe you'll come close to understanding how ridiculous you sound, standing there demanding to hold my baby boy."
"Everything all right?" a uniformed police officer asked.
"Could you please escort this man off my property?" Olivia asked, never breaking her lock with his eyes. "I deem him a threat to my child."
"How so, ma'am? What harm has he done, and are you prepared to press charges?"
"This is crazy," Tag said, conking the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Look, sir, with all due respect, this entire situation could've been avoided had the lady just cooperated. If you'll let me, there are some documents on the entry-hall table that will put all of this into perspective." Tag started that way, but the officer pulled his gun.
"Stay right where you are," he ordered. "You," he said, nodding toward the blonde. "See if you can find the papers he's talking about."
She hurried off.
"Please," Tag said, "all I want to do is hold our son. Is that really so much to ask?"
"Yes," Olivia said. Her single cold word hit him like an ice cube right between his eyes.
"Here you go, sir." The blonde handed over Tag's proof.
After holstering his weapon, the policeman scanned the papers, pausing every so often to look at Olivia, then Tag. Finally he let out a low whistle, folded the papers and handed them to Tag. "Looks like you two have one dilly of a mess."
"No kidding," Tag said, relieved that finally someone had recognized he was the victim. "So would you kindly tell her she has to at least let me hold our son?"
In response, all three women talked at once, forcing the officer to whistle to make them hush.
"Sir," he said to Tag, "I feel for you. Wholeheartedly. I'm a daddy to five little girls, and don't know what I'd do without them, but this is one of those cases where possession is nine-tenths of the law. Without a court order I can't let you take this boy from his mother---even for a quick hug."
Olivia lifted her chin higher, holding on to the baby for all she was worth. "Officer, I already explained that his continued presence makes me uncomfortable. However, I will be happy to speak with him through my attorney."
"This is B.S.," Tag said, tired of playing nice.
"Language," the officer scolded. "Leave peaceably with me, and I'll get you names of good attorneys."
"I've already got one," Tag said, shooting Olivia a dark look. "A very good one."
"Suit yourself." The policeman gestured for Tag to lead the way out the front door. "After you..."
"WOW," STEPHANIE BLURTED once the roar of Tag O'Malley's car had receded. "That was intense."
Olivia, still holding Flynn for dear life, collapsed onto the nearest chair. Though the three of them were right back where they'd started around her patio table, she felt as if a year had passed. "Why is this happening?"
"Next week we'll be laughing about this," Gabby assured her, holding Jack tighter.
"All of the documents look legit," Olivia said, staring straight ahead, wishing she'd never even heard of Tag O'Malley. "I'll need to spend all weekend researching case law. Clearly, we're both victims of the lab's screwup, but legally I don't have a clue where Flynn and I stand. At the very least, we're talking negligence and medical malpractice charges needing to be filed. That's in conjunction with custody issues. I'll need to research whether something like this has even happened before." Kissing the crown of Flynn's head, she added, "I vaguely remember a woman in New York suing because her deceased husband was white, and her child conceived by artificial insemination turned out to be black. But I don't recall whether or not the donor father was even factored into the case."
Cupping her hand around Olivia's forearm, Gabby asked, "Want us to leave so that you can get to work?"
Olivia nodded. "Would you all mind? I really do have a lot to do."
Stephanie was already gathering the twins' things. "Call me. I love you. We'll get through this together."
Nodding, fighting tears, Olivia mouthed her thanks, but no sound came out.
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN what time it is in Beijing," Tag roared into his office intercom. The return trip to the city had taken half the time. The Hummer's gas pedal had been linked to his fury. "Get my lawyer on the phone---now."
Alice sassed, "I would be happy to if you'd ask politely. Do you have any idea how many job offers I've had in this building alone?"
Sighing, Tag said, "Look, sorry about the attitude. I'm going through something that---"
"You're too pigheaded to open up about?" As Alice was prone to do, she walked in and helped herself to his private office, plopping into one of his guest chairs. Taking a Hershey's Kiss from a bowl he kept alongside his pictures of Maria, she said, "Don't think I didn't know something big was up the second you stormed out of here this morning, Tag O'Malley. You might think you're hot stuff, but---"
"Not now," he said with a shake of his head. "This isn't about my obsessive need to win every contract negotiation or drill the deepest wells." Withdrawing the lab's packet from where it felt as if it was burning a hole through his suit, he slid it across the desk to his longtime secretary and friend. "I know I must come across as an egotistical ass a lot of times, but this is serious."
He followed the track of her eyes as she read. His eyes welled along with hers when she gasped.
"You have a son?" she asked quietly, returning the letter to the desk. "A sweet baby boy who's just down the road in Valley View?"
He nodded. "I saw him, Alice. I could've reached out and taken him into my arms. Do you remember how desperately Maria wanted a son? We tried everything, and now...a baby appears like magic, only cruelly, he's not mine."
"Biologically not yours?" Alice wrinkled her nose.
"You misunderstood. Scientifically he's mine. He has my grandmother's fiery hair. I meant that for the moment my son legally belongs with this Olivia Marshall woman. The most obstinate female to ever roam the earth. She wouldn't even let me hold him. She actually stooped so low as to involve the police."
Alice clucked and shook her head. "I can't even imagine what that must've been like for you. But, Tag..." Reaching out to him, she covered his hand with hers. "Put yourself in her shoes. When there's something you want, you hunt it like a lion after a gazelle. Tact has never been your strong suit."
"But I was on my best behavior, and she still wouldn't even listen. It was like she was a second grader holding her hands over her ears while screaming la la la at the top of her lungs. She wasn't rational."
"Would you have been?" Voice softening, Alice reasoned, "Given her position? A stranger shows up at your front door, demanding you hand over your child?"
"I guess not," he begrudgingly admitted. "But she could've been civil. You know, at least tried to understand my point of view."
"I know," she crooned, "but, honey, unless you've been a parent, you can't understand the burning instinct to protect your child. I'm sure once she's had time to think about the situation, she'll be much more reasonable---helpful, even, in setting up visits and such."
"Visits?" He snorted. "I don't want to just visit my son. He's mine. Meaning that at least half of the time he'll live under my roof." Rising, he paced.
Going to him, she put her hands on his shoulders. Ordinarily he considered Alice a part of the family. He welcomed her mother-hen-style advice. But this was one time when he'd rather she keep her mouth shut. What didn't she get about the fact that this wasn't his usual battlefield? When it came to matters concerning oil, it was in his blood. Parenthood took him into uncharted territory. Olivia Marshall currently had the upper hand. But just as soon as Alice tracked down Tag's attorney, that was going to change.
"THANKS, DANE," Olivia said to Gabby's husband Monday morning in the Georgette County Courthouse lobby. He'd helped her expedite a court hearing concerning Flynn's custody. Although, since she'd also scheduled a fast-tracked DNA test for Tuesday, the court date might not even be necessary.
"No problem," he said. "You were lucky Judge Marsbury was able to squeeze you in."
"I know, but I don't think he'd have been quite so accommodating without a nudge from you."
"I was glad to help. And hopefully, this will turn out to be a mistake." Dane's assurance, along with the massive, churchlike space of the courthouse, put her at ease.
She found the law soothing. It was reliable. A lot of times criminal attorneys got a bad rap, but she chose her clients carefully. Justice meant a lot to her. Her father had been wrongly imprisoned for a white-collar crime it had later been proven his partner had committed. Yes, she'd been assigned clients who were guilty, but in the end, the truth had been unavoidable and justice was still served.
Forcing a laugh, she said, "From your lips to God's ears."
"At the very least, an angel or two." Ushering her to one of the wooden pewlike benches lining the white marble floor, he said, "Gabrielle told me you were pretty shaken."
"She would be right." An image of Tag popped into her mind. The man was an egotistical brute. Olivia understood that he was excited about possibly being a father, but he needed to lay off until his paternity was disproven.
And if it wasn't?
The idea was too horrible to consider.
"What are you doing here?" In the hushed waiting area of Accurate Biosystem's DNA testing facility, Olivia hadn't meant to sound so curt. Or maybe she had. Either way, though she knew her personal attorney had notified Tag O'Malley regarding the time and place of Flynn's half of the paternity testing, she hadn't expected the enemy to be present.
He snapped, "Not only is it my legal right to ensure all testing is on the up-and-up, but in case you've forgotten, Flynn's sample only makes part of the puzzle." He sat in the armchair alongside hers, putting him not only uncomfortably close, but within perfect viewing range of her son, who was at her feet, sleeping soundly in his carrier. Olivia would've expected the harsh lines etched into Tag's forehead and around his mouth to soften when he stared at her baby. To the contrary, he only scowled harder.
What was he thinking---how badly he wanted Flynn to be his?
Stomach tensed, Olivia fought to steady the National Geographic she'd been reading before Tag's arrival. She told herself the article on Bali's lost tribes was scintillating, but truthfully, her eyes weren't even focused on the page.
Fury didn't begin to cover how upset this whole issue had made her. One day her life with Flynn had been idyllic. The next, a nightmare from which there might be no escape. Over and over she'd played out the odds in her head. Worst case, if Tag did turn out to be Flynn's sperm donor, they'd be looking at a partial custody arrangement, the very notion of which was unacceptable. She wasn't going to share her baby.
Breaking the silence, a door at the far end of the pale blue waiting room opened. A woman wearing green scrubs consulted a chart before calling, "Olivia and Flynn Marshall."
Gripping her son's carrier, she rose, as did Tag.
"I prefer to be alone," she said.
"Tough. According to my attorney, I have every right to witness the test being performed."
On that fact he was correct, which was why she hadn't already shoved him out of her way. From the day he'd set foot on her property, he'd declared war. Meaning she wasn't about to spoon-feed him legal pointers.
In a nine-by-ten blue windowless room there were two guest chairs, one blood-collection chair with oversize padded arm rests, and a cabinet wall with a counter and sink. There were a couple of cheap and ugly prints on the walls, along with a factoid poster entitled "DNA and You." The room smelled of antiseptic and a strawberry-shaped air freshener that was dangling from a cabinet doorknob.
Olivia took the seat nearest the exit, holding Flynn's carrier on her lap.
"My name's Jamie," said the pretty blonde medical tech in a chirpy voice. "Today's procedure is painless and simple. Mom, before we begin, our chain of custody procedure requires that you show a photo ID, then we'll need your thumbprint and I'll take a Polaroid of you. Also, as the child in question's legal guardian, you'll need to sign consent forms on his behalf. After that, I'll collect your DNA samples using buccal swabs, which are kind of like a supersize Q-Tip, to rub excess skin cells from the inside of both your and your son's cheeks."
"Will it hurt him?" Olivia asked.
"Not at all," the woman assured her with a warm smile. "He probably won't even wake up." Looking to Tag, she said, "Are you also being tested?"
"Yes," he said, still standing, his hands in his pants pockets. He wore another dark suit. His shirt was an impeccably starched cobalt-blue. His tie was a striped study in varying shades of blue with an occasional slice of yellow. "Though my official appointment isn't for another hour."
"Want me to go ahead and do all of you now?"
"No," Olivia barked, wanting only to escape. This whole thing was making her feel like a guest on Jerry Springer.
"Yes," Tag said.
"Which will it be?" The med tech glanced up from a notation she'd just made in Olivia's chart.
Tag glared in her direction---the man's determination gave off its own heat wave.
"Go ahead and fit him in," Olivia said, more out of her wish to both leave and avoid an argument than any charity she might've felt in her heart.
"Thank you," he silently mouthed.
He wasn't welcome.
The tech left to find his file.
"I appreciate you caving on this point," he said. "Now, if you'd just let me hold our son, we'd be like one happy family."
"He's not yours." Olivia ground out the words from between clenched teeth. "A fact we will soon enough have verified."
Sitting beside her, he sighed.
"What?"
He angled to face her. "Why are you so hostile? You're not the only one who stands to be hurt by all of this."
"Hurt?" Tears, hot and stinging, filled her eyes while a knot blocked her throat. "Oh---having a stranger appear out of nowhere demanding I hand over my son is a bit more serious than that."
"Lady, I've tried to---"
"Okay..." The tech was back, this time with a fresh bundle of paperwork Olivia recognized from the pile she'd earlier had to fill out. "This is for you," she said, handing him a clipboard and pen. "I'll also need your ID, a thumbprint and photo of you for our records."
Tag shot Olivia a brief glare before thanking the tech and commencing with his assignment.
"IS THIS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN waiting for?" Thursday morning Alice waltzed into Tag's office bearing a FedEx envelope. "It's from the lab."
Nervous didn't begin to describe the emotions churning Tag's stomach. He knew in his heart Olivia's baby was also his. At the lab, the more he'd looked at the little guy, the more in love he'd fallen. In the quiet of his lonely nights Tag had already made plans. Which area of his office to transform into a nursery. Whether or not he wanted his son to play Little League baseball, peewee football or both. Would he grow up to be an oilman? Or branch out into something more to his own liking?
"Want me to open it for you?" Alice wagged the envelope.
Seated at his desk, he covered his face with his hands. His heart pounded to an uncomfortable degree.
"Tag?" she prodded. "You all right?"
"I'm fine. Give me that." He took the envelope from her. As if removing a bandage, he tore the packet's sealing tape fast. Removing the contents, he forced a deep breath, and then read.
"THANKS FOR COMING," Olivia said to Stephanie. They shared a corner table at Morgan's---a coffeehouse just off Fifth and Cummings in the heart of Valley View.
Usually the beach-scene wall murals and tangle of tropical plants put her at ease. If those didn't work, the luau classics usually did. Something about drinking coffee with Don Ho crooning brought a heavenly slice of Hawaii to Arkansas. The scent of freshly baked breads and cookies never hurt, either.
On this day, however, no amount of kitsch was going to con her brain into a mellow mood. Olivia knew she should have been brave enough to open the paternity results on her own, but for whatever reason, she wasn't.
Flynn had been deep into his afternoon nap at his Montessori school day care, so she'd left him in capable hands.
"My pleasure," Steph said, sipping chai tea. "I tried finding the rest of the gang, but no one else could make it on short notice. My sister's with the twins."
The FedEx envelope holding the test results sat between them on the table. The portion of her cappuccino Olivia had already downed was burning a hole through her stomach.
"Well?" Stephanie opened the pack of butter cookies she'd bought to go along with her tea.
"I can't do it," Olivia said, shoving the packet to her friend. "Please, can you open it?"
Her friend solemnly nodded.
In the moments it took Steph to tug open the pull strip, Olivia fought to breathe. All her hopes hung on the paternity test to return with a zero probability of Tag being Flynn's father. Closing her eyes, she prayed, Please, please, please don't let him---
"Oh, Liv..."
Olivia opened her eyes to see her friend look near tears. Happy or sad?
"I'm so sorry. But, sweetie, tests prove that with 99.9 percent certainty, this Tag character is Flynn's biological father."
Though Steph babbled more apologies and words she no doubt meant to be a comfort, her sentiments registered in slow motion. For how many years had Olivia prided herself on being able to hold her calm through any storm? Yet here she was in the midst of the single most horrible thing to have ever happened to her, and she was falling apart. Now was the time for her to steel her resolve to see this matter through.
So what if Tag O'Malley was her son's father?
In her book that entitled him to diddly-squat. There was way more involved in being a parent than just numbers on a test. If Tag had been so eager to be a dad, why had his sperm ended up at a lab in the first place? Why hadn't he just gone the traditional route? The man didn't have a ring on his finger, which Olivia assumed meant he wasn't married, so what gave him the right to think he could just bust in on her carefully planned life, demanding she share her child?
Easing her fingers into the hair at her temples, she pulled, desperate for her mind to find answers. There had to be obscure case law somewhere concerning a matter of this nature. She just hadn't searched far enough. Studied nearly enough. But she would. Okay, so she appeared in court tomorrow. That was all right. She'd put every one of the firm's junior attorneys on this matter. Every paralegal, every secretary---heck, every custodian.
By tomorrow Tag O'Malley would be annihilated.
"Liv?"
Olivia glanced up.
"Honey, say something. You're worrying me. Your expression is...well, for lack of a better word, thunderous. What are you thinking?"
With a sad laugh, Olivia said, "Trust me, you don't want to know."
"THIS MAY BE UNORTHODOX," the Honorable Judge Marsbury said from his bench Friday afternoon, "but in a case like this, I want a complete picture---beyond what the lawyers say. So, one at a time, I want to hear from the folks doing the feuding. Ms. Marshall, Mr. O'Malley, in your own words, please tell me not only why you'd like to be Baby Flynn's primary caregiver, but what makes you uniquely qualified." Nodding toward Tag's opponent, the judge added, "Ladies first."
All business, her red hair drawn into a severe twist, Olivia would have looked more like an overdressed prison guard than a mom if it hadn't been for the pearls glowing at her throat. She cleared her throat and stood.
"Your Honor," she said, looking cool, calm and utterly unflappable, "thank you for this opportunity to express my wishes concerning my son."
The judge nodded.
"As the child of interest's mother, obviously this matter is of utmost concern to me. To say I love my son doesn't begin to describe the emotion that goes into each and every moment with him. He is the core of my world." After pausing to consult notes she'd written on a yellow legal pad, she continued. "What makes me uniquely qualified to care for Flynn is the plain and simple fact that I am the infant's biological mother. I carried him inside me for nine long months. I've been with him every day since. The two of us have a bond that is special to us both. During my pregnancy I immersed myself in child-development classes and studies in proper child discipline techniques and nutrition and ways to decorate children's rooms to best stimulate their creativity and mathematical skills." Once again consulting her notes, the textbook in heels finished with, "In closing, Your Honor, I'm bowing to your expertise in these custodial matters to see that as the child's birth mother, I'm not only the better suited choice for Flynn to reside with, but really, the only choice. Thank you." With a formal nod, she was finished.
The judge made a few notes, then looked to Tag's table. "Sir, whenever you're ready."
Standing, Tag said, "Thank you, Your Honor." Clearing his throat, fighting an uncharacteristic ball of nerves, he managed, "Um, I'm in the oil business, and usually I have no problem speaking to a couple of guys out in the field or a couple hundred suits in some swanky boardroom. But this is one occasion when I'm having a miserable time finding the right words." He sighed and ran his hand through his already-messed-up hair. "Bottom line, I come from a big Irish family. My mom and dad were the best---still are. They filled me with the fire to one day have my own family, which I did. A couple years out of college, I married the prettiest gal you ever did see. Her name was Maria and when she smiled..." Eyes shining with unshed tears, he touched his chest. "When she smiled, I was the luckiest man in the world. Long story short, we tried having our own brood, but things didn't work out. I told her, angel, let's just pick a bunch of kids who need adopting. We'll love 'em all just the same. And I would've. But she had some cockamamy notion that I had to have a son of my own blood to be happy. Docs told her that artificial insemination was the way to go. I fought against it, but since it was what she wanted, I dutifully marched down to the lab and did my business---if you know what I mean."
Chuckling, the judge said, "Yessir, I believe I do. Please continue."
"Well, anyway, right after that, my Maria got sick---real sick. Of all things, she died of pneumonia. I didn't even know that was possible in this day and age---aside from babies and old folks who are already weak." Recalling the horror of those first few hours, days and weeks after holding her hand into death made it hard for him to carry on, but out of his love for his wife he toughened up, continuing what he'd come here to do.
"Sir," Tag managed, "when those suits at the lab told me I was a father after all..." With the heels of his hands he brushed away tears. Sniffling, smiling, he said, "That moment was like getting caught in a ray of light from heaven. I'd be first to admit I'm no expert in parenting. I don't know a diaper from a bottle, but I'm a fast learner and already love my boy more than words can say. The first time I hold that little guy in my arms, I'll probably die from an overwhelmed heart, but..."
Making more notes, the judge asked, "You mean to tell me that Ms. Marshall has not allowed you any contact with your child?"
"No, sir."
"Your Honor," Olivia said, instantly on her feet, "I most strongly object. The circumstances surrounding---"
"Ms. Marshall," the judge said with several slams of his gavel, "you will contain yourself and kindly remember this is not a criminal case. As such, should you again interrupt these proceedings, I will have you fined. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Your Honor." She sat. Tag didn't miss her bottom lip's tremble. Damn, but she was a cool customer. What did it take for the woman to let loose with her emotions? He couldn't imagine a time when she'd have more at stake.
"Mr. O'Malley," the judge said, "on behalf of the court, I apologize. Please continue."
"Um, sure," Tag said, regrettably having lost all his momentum. "I, ah, guess to sum it up, what I most want you to know is that I want to do right by this child. I want this baby to know his daddy. I don't just want to see him on weekends, but be an integral part of his life. I want to help him learn to read and hit a ball. I want us to go out catching tadpoles and make mud pies. With everything in me, sir, I want this baby boy. And...that's pretty much it."
"Thank you," the judge said, rising. "Now I'm going to grab a quick cup of joe and review my notes. Bailiff, let's reconvene in an hour."
One measly hour.
That was all it was going to take for the man to decide the rest of Tag's life. As if he hadn't been scared crapless before, that news just about did him in.
ONCE THE JUDGE WAS safely out of the courtroom, Olivia dropped her forehead to the table and groaned. "What am I doing here? What was I thinking? Objecting in the midst of a custody trial?"
"It's okay," her attorney and friend, Ella Marks, soothed. Lightly rubbing Olivia's back, she said, "Everything will work out fine."
"I don't know," Olivia said, rising, being careful not to look to the other side of the room where Tag O'Malley no doubt sat wearing a smug grin. "My gut feeling is that I didn't come off as maternal enough."
"You might've been warmer," Ella agreed, "but I'm sure your professional demeanor was appreciated. Your response was exactly what the judge asked for."
Pulse racing, mouth dry, Olivia had never needed her child more. Tag O'Malley's story had been touching. Surely the judge had thought the same. As much as she despised the man, her heart went out to him for the loss of his wife. She was all too familiar with what it felt like to have a broken heart, and would never wish the same on anyone.
She understood that he wanted to see his son, but the simple fact of the matter was that up until a week ago Tag hadn't even known Flynn existed. Olivia had started planning for her son a full year before he'd even been conceived. Weighing years against a week, she was sorry for the man, she really was, but she stood to lose far more than he did.
"Let's get out of here," Ella said, tugging Olivia by her upper arm. "I'll buy you a coffee."
"I think a martini might be more effective," Olivia mumbled, grabbing her black leather purse.
Ella laughed. "Maybe so, but until you are once again granted sole custody of your adorable baby boy, I'm thinking we may need to hold off on the partying."
In the courthouse lobby, throngs of people had gathered for a criminal case being held in the building's largest courtroom. The next town over, Clayburgh, had been the scene of a major drug bust. Judging by the milling crowd, that trial must also be in recess.
"Let's go to Morgan's," Ella suggested. "I could really go for a double-shot mochachino."
"Whatever," Olivia said. "I don't think my stomach could hold a thing."
Outside, the day was blustery and gray, making Olivia wish she'd grabbed her coat. If only she knew what the judge was thinking. Usually she was fairly adept at reading judicial expressions, but Marsbury was one tough cookie. From a technical standpoint she'd done fine. But had that been enough? Was this a case that required more than mere legal finesse? Like opening herself up in a public way---something she'd never done before.
Arms crossed to ward off the cold, she ducked her chin, wishing she'd just stayed in the courthouse.
The wind tortured still-bare tree limbs. The few spring bulbs that had dared bloom now looked pitiful and defeated, accurately reflecting her mood.
By the time Ella had gotten her coffee and they'd made the three-block return trek to the courthouse, Olivia was ready to crawl out of her skin. Making matters worse, criminal court must have been back in session, as the lobby was clear except for Tag O'Malley and his attorney.
When Tag glanced in her direction, she sharply looked away.
Usually it wasn't in Olivia's nature to back down from a challenge, but the closer the time came for the judge to reach a verdict, the more exhausted she'd become. The gravity of her current situation hit her in aching waves. A week ago she hadn't had a care in the world. Now, in less than ten minutes, she might lose her son.
"Let's head in," Ella said, her hand on Olivia's back, urging her forward.
Olivia nodded.
While waiting for the judge, Olivia wasn't sure what to do with her hands. It didn't matter that she'd calmly waited for hundreds of verdicts over the course of her career. This time was obviously different.
"All rise," the bailiff said. "Court is now in session."
After the judge entered and took his seat, everyone else present sat, as well.
"Know CPR?" Olivia asked her friend.
"Relax," Ella said, patting her hand. "You'll be fine."
"Ms. Marshall, Mr. O'Malley, I want you both to know that I sincerely feel for you. This is not an enviable situation. That said, I had largely decided in favor of the mother. After all, she has thus far borne the brunt of Baby Flynn's care. However, no offense, Ms. Marshall, but your statement felt more like a technical manual than a heartfelt plea for a mother to keep her child. Mr. O'Malley, your story was the exact opposite. While Ms. Marshall practically has a PhD in child rearing, she lacks heart. You, sir, are short on practical know-how, yet your abundance of warmth more than makes up for Ms Marshall's rather cold attitude." Sighing and tidying the papers on the bench, he said, "Weighing all of these facts leads me to only one conclusion. The two of you will share custody. Ideally, you will jointly work out a mutually beneficial visitation schedule. If, however, that cannot be managed, I will appoint a social worker to devise a schedule for you. Let's hope the two of you can behave in an adult and loving manner, keeping the best interests of your son foremost in mind. Case closed. Court is adjourned." With a final slam of his gavel, the judge left room, taking with him Olivia's hope for a happy ending.
"I'm sorry," Ella said. "We gave it our best."
Sorry didn't come close to making up for the fact that Olivia had essentially just lost her child.
A look in Tag's direction showed him to be all smiles, shaking hands with his attorney and then punching numbers into his cell.
What she felt for the man was indescribable. On the one hand she wished she'd never met him. On the other, more rational side, she realized that a good part of him was in her son. The son she loved more than anything. So where did that leave her?
In a bind. Because no matter what the judge said, no way was she turning over her baby boy.
While Olivia gathered her briefcase and documents, in her peripheral vision she saw Tag edging her way.
"No hard feelings?" he said, extending his hand. "Looks like we're in this together now."
Keeping her hands tightly balled at her sides, she forced a deep breath.
"I thought, if you don't mind, I'd come over tonight? I'm anxious to get to know our son."
"I'm sure," she said. "But tonight isn't possible."
"Tomorrow, then?"
"I'd have to check my schedule."
Eyes narrowing, Tag said, "Is this how you're going to play it? Because if so, we can waltz right into those judge's chambers and get this settled now. All along I've tried being civil, but if you'd like, I'll make damned sure you never see your son again."
"T-that won't be necessary," Olivia said. Tag's threat had sparked a plan. "I'm sorry." She forced a smile. "Please forgive my rudeness. I'm just a little shell-shocked by the verdict."
"I understand," he said.
"Good. Then, please, by all means, Flynn and I would love to welcome you into our home. Would seven work for you?"
"How about six?" Tag countered. "I can't wait to get hold of my little man."
"By all means, then," she said with another smile. "Six it is."
After a brief, chatty goodbye Tag finally left.
Ella noted, "That was awfully civilized of you. I figured you'd put him through at least three appeals before letting him get his hands on Flynn."
Olivia shrugged, flashing a smile she hoped conveyed acceptance of her fate.
"You're a good sport," Ella said. "The guy seems all right. Who knows, maybe this won't turn out so badly."
That's right, Olivia promised herself, because by the time six o'clock rolls around, Flynn and I will safely be miles away.
"Mrs. Troyer?" Blessedly home, her front door shut and locked behind her, Olivia chucked her keys, mail and purse on the entry-hall table. Knowing there wasn't a second to lose, she stormed toward the media room, where the elderly part-time sitter could usually be found. Most days, Flynn attended day care at the Montessori school, but times when he was sick, or school was closed, Mrs. Troyer helped. On this day, nothing had been wrong with Flynn---Olivia just hadn't wanted him leaving his home.
The sitter was addicted to the afternoon soaps, and enjoyed nothing more than watching them on Olivia's big-screen TV whenever Flynn was down for a nap.
Olivia kicked off her heels, marched down the hall and peeked into the nursery to see her baby boy contentedly snoozing. From the living room a heated TV argument gave the only clue needed as to the sitter's location.
"Mrs. Troyer?" Olivia called more forcefully than she ordinarily would have.
Hands on her chest, the older woman jumped before muting her show. "Heavens, girl, I didn't expect you home for hours."
"Sorry." Forcing a bright tone, Olivia said, "Lucky for Flynn and I, court was over earlier than I expected."
"I take it that means you were awarded full custody?"
"Absolutely," Olivia said, "which means we'll be doing some celebrating, so I won't need you for at least a week or two."
Hefting her considerable frame from her recliner, Mrs. Troyer asked, "You're going out of town?"
"Nope." Big smile. "Just taking time off. Spending extra time with the baby."
"Good for you. Meaning you're probably wanting me out of your hair."
"Nothing like that," Olivia said, heading for her purse. "But I would like to write you a check for the time you would've spent with us."
Mrs. Troyer followed her. "That's not necessary."
"Neither is that Coach purse I know you've been eyeing at Dillard's, but this amount should cover your purse and a matching wallet." After writing her signature on the check, Olivia handed it over with a flourish.
The sitter gasped. Her hand was back over her chest. "This is too much."
Giving the older woman a hug, trying not to cry, Olivia said, "You take wonderful care of Flynn. You're a part of the family. So quit complaining and do something outrageously nice for yourself, okay?" When the older woman frowned, Olivia added, "Please."
"All right," Mrs. Troyer said, "but I'm not happy about it."
"You will be with that new bag hanging from your shoulder."
The older woman laughed. "You're probably right, but seeing how I'm old enough to be your mother, it's my duty to tell you to be careful with your money."
"I will," Olivia said, ushering her friend to the front door. She wished she could let her in on her plan, but knew it was for the best if she didn't. "I love you," she said with one more sentimental hug. "You really do mean the world to Flynn and me."
"Gracious, girl, you act like you're never going to see me again. We're only talking a few days, aren't we?"
"Sure," Olivia said, avoiding eye contact with the woman while trying to get her out the door. Time was ticking on her six-o'clock deadline. "I'll call you just as soon as I head back to work."
Ten more precious minutes ticked by before finally Olivia was on her own. After a quick check on her son to find him still sleeping, she ran to her room.
Taking her largest suitcase from the closet, she tossed it onto the bed, then scooped clothes from her dresser, not caring if any of them matched. After tossing in toiletries and her best jewelry, which, worst-case scenario, if it came down to it she wouldn't hesitate to sell, she zipped the bag closed and wheeled it to the garage, cramming it into the trunk of her silver Mercedes sedan alongside Flynn's stroller.
Next she took the empty laundry basket from the laundry room and piled it high with baby food. Into a large plastic tub she'd been saving for reorganizing the hall closet went Flynn's bath seat and toys and all the diapers she had on hand. Last, she took another suitcase from her room and tiptoed into the nursery. Into the case she tossed everything from warm winter clothes to summer gear and even a tiny bathing suit that had been a baby shower gift. At this point Olivia had no idea how long she'd be gone, or even where she was going. All she knew was that no one was taking her son.
Her entire adult life had been dedicated to studying and following the law. But today her faith in the system had been shaken to its core. Everything she thought she believed in had been flipped upside down, until now all that remained was the voice screaming inside her to run.
FOUR HOURS LATER the tires of Olivia's car crunched on the gravel drive of an Ozark mountain resort she'd once stayed at for a business retreat. The trip organizer had received a lot of flak from the legal team. The place was a far cry from the usual five-star establishments most of the firm's attorneys were used to, but Olivia had fallen for the log cabins' rustic charm and the way the dense deciduous forest glowed with late-afternoon sun. Even though the branches were now bare, in her mind's eye she remembered how lovely the area had been in the colorful fall of her last visit.
"Okay, cutie, time to wake up." Though Olivia knew it would be a long night with Flynn having slept so much during the afternoon, she'd been glad for the peaceful ride. The only stops she'd made had been at her bank for cash, and at a gas station.
The resort was deep in the hills halfway between Branson, Missouri, and Eureka Springs. For the first time in days her shoulders didn't feel knotted. This far from home, she was safe. Flynn couldn't be taken from her if Tag couldn't find him.
Outside the car she stretched, dragging in deep, calming breaths of the chilly mountain air. Night was swiftly falling and though it was still early, a few hardy crickets were chirping.
Opening the back door, she unbuckled the safety latch on Flynn's car seat, then scooped him into her arms. He snuggled against her, rooting his face into the curve of her neck. Heart melting, she swallowed the knot in her throat. She wasn't going to give in to tears. Not now, when her escape plan had been perfectly executed.
At first she'd just climbed into her car and driven. She hadn't a clue where she'd been headed other than as far from Tag O'Malley as possible. Around Harrison, she'd remembered this place and called for a reservation.
She held Flynn with one arm while she reached over the front seat for her purse. Car door closed, she walked twenty feet to mount the single step to the oversize cabin serving as a restaurant, registration desk, game room, conference center and Laundromat.
Crossing a front porch lined with potted pansies and willow sapling rockers, she pulled open the building's front door.
When a bell jingled, Flynn roused, sleepily tracking the sound's source.
"Like that?" Olivia cooed.
On her tiptoes she just managed to reach high enough to give the bell a second jangle. Her reward was a drowsy grin.
"Little fellow's got a sweet smile." The resort's proprietor, Eleanor Holden, stepped out from the small office that was behind a pine reception counter. The surface glowed with a decades-old patina. Matching antler lamps with leather shades lit either end. In between were pamphlets on canoeing trips and country music shows. Cave and historic home tours. Casting off welcoming aromas were a bowl of red and green apples and a vanilla-scented candle. "I'm assuming you're Olivia?"
"Yes, ma'am," Olivia said, placing her purse on the floor so that she could shake the woman's outstretched hand.
"The husband and I are flattered that you thought well enough of us to drop by for a repeat stay."
"You have a relaxing place," Olivia said, admiring the high-beamed pine ceiling. "Something about it just makes me feel good." Safe.
"We aim to please," the salt-and-pepper-haired woman said with a wink. She wore jeans and a red sweater that brought out the merry blue in her eyes. "So, per your needs, I've got you in Cabin Five. It's our most private, features a full kitchen, living room and a master bedroom large enough for a hot tub and a portable crib."
"Sounds perfect," Olivia said with her first genuine smile of the day.
"How long will you be staying?"
"Let's start with a week." Hopefully, that would be enough time for her to figure out her next move. She had a cousin in California. Maybe she could relocate somewhere near Shaun and her family? "But would it be a problem if I wanted to extend my stay?"
"Not this time of year. Give it another couple months, though, and I'd have to give you the boot."
"Fair enough." Olivia signed all the necessary paperwork and reached for her credit card to swipe, but then realized how traceable that would be and instead handed over cash.
"We require a credit card for damages."
Thinking fast, Olivia said, "I'm, um, really trying to break the credit card habit. Would you mind if I just gave you extra cash?"
Chewing on that for a moment, Eleanor said, "It's not our usual way, but I s'pose that'd be fine."
Whew. A few minutes more and the checkin process was complete.
Armed with meal times and an entertainment schedule, Olivia set off for her new home. "You're going to like it here," she said to her baby boy. "The food isn't gourmet, but it's simple and filling and makes Mommy happy."
Flynn yawned, making Olivia laugh.
Their cabin had a small front porch with the same type of willow seating found at the main lodge. There were also cheerful pots of pansies---pink and purple. Easing the key into the lock, Olivia had a tough time working the mechanism, but it finally gave and the heavy wood door creaked open. The sun was nearly down, making the interior dark.
She flicked the light switch by the door, illuminating a shabby chic, rustic space with a vaulted pine ceiling, soaring native stone fireplace and log-framed furniture softened with cozy burgundy and cream calico cushions. Wood floors were warmed by colorful rag rugs. On the walls were framed oil paintings of landscapes and fishing scenes. Mounted on the back of the cabin's front door was a list of antiquated resort rules that included friendly reminders such as fish were not to be cleaned indoors and unmarried couples were not to be in the same cabin without a chaperone past dark.
A smile playing about her lips, holding Flynn extra close, Olivia mused that the likelihood of her having a man in her cabin was about the same as her changing careers to become an astronaut.
Flynn whimpered.
"Bet you're hungry, huh?" Her breasts ached---usually a telltale sign her son was ready for dinner.
She tossed her purse to the butcher block counter, then took a seat in a rocker nestled alongside the stone fireplace. Unbuttoning her blouse, she opened her nursing bra's flap, cradling Flynn against her, helping him latch on. The release of milk acted as a balm, relaxing her, reassuring her that by running she'd done the right thing. By the time she'd switched Flynn to her other breast and he'd eaten his fill, her eyelids were heavy.
It had been a long drive. For the moment the two of them were safe. But what next? Was she really prepared to abandon her home, career and essentially her whole life?
Yes.
Bottom line, Flynn belonged to her. And as long as she had breath in her body, no stranger claiming to be his father or a random judge would take him away.
A knock sounded on the cabin door.
Assuming it was Eleanor with extra towels, Olivia fastened the flap on her bra and quickly buttoned her blouse.
"Wake up, hon," she said, tweaking the tip of Flynn's nose. "We have company."
She chuckled at his sleepy expression. Setting him in the portable crib that their innkeeper had thoughtfully already made up in the bedroom, she went to greet their guest.
"Coming!" she called when her visitor knocked again. It took a few seconds to zigzag her way around a coffee table and side chairs.
Finally she reached the door and tugged it open.
"Surprise," Tag O'Malley said, a stony look on his face.
"H-HOW---" As Tag had hoped, he'd caught his son's mother off guard. Her hands were trembling over her mouth and her gaze darted wildly. Searching for a fresh route of escape? "Y-you have to leave. I---"
"Save it," he said, brushing past her. He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries, let alone any more of Olivia's games. "Where's our son?"
"He's mine," she said, close on his heels. "Please, just go. How did you even find us? What are you? Some kind of deranged stalker?"
There he was. His son. Asleep in his crib. Ignoring the infant's mother, Tag froze, taking but a moment to drink in the sight of him. He was so perfect. Tiny. Sweeter than anything Tag had ever seen, with the exception of Maria's wedding-day smile. On autopilot, he knelt, scooping the baby into his arms.
A tremor shuddered through him. Raw emotion, stinging and hot, welled his eyes. Cradling his son to his chest, Tag felt his knees turn to rubber, sending him for safety's sake to sit on the foot of the bed. Sensory overload had him cupping his cheek to the boy's downy hair. In great, greedy gulps, Tag dragged in his son's scent. Baby lotion and shampoo and powder. Flynn's tiny velvety jumper smelled fresh and clean. Gently inserting his pinkie finger into the baby's clenched fist, Tag wondered at the minuscule perfection. If only Maria could have been here to experience the same joy.
"You're amazing..." Tag whispered, his throat too tight to continue.
"How did you find me?" Olivia asked, hovering in front of him, her fingers splayed in the hair at her temples.
"Didn't take a genius to assume you'd run. I followed."
She nodded. "I hadn't planned for that contingency."
"Obviously." Nuzzling his son's head, he said, "You do know what the judge will think of this stunt?"
"I know, and yet..." A sharp laugh escaped her. "I'd do it again. You have no idea how much I love this child. I can't---won't---share him."
"You don't have a choice."
Her hard eyes softened as she looked at him, truly looked. "You really do love him, don't you?"
Unable to find words, he nodded.
"Which puts us at an impasse."
Having regained some of his composure, he asked, "How so?"
Lifting her chin, she said, "You can follow me for the rest of my life, but I'm never giving you my son."
"Brave words, considering one phone call could shut you out of Flynn's life forever." He hated playing the tough guy, but facts were facts. Hours in the car had given him too much time to think. While a part of him had had it with this woman's stunts, there was another part that totally got where she was coming from. Had the tables been turned, he couldn't say he wouldn't have pulled the same runaway game.
"Y-you wouldn't be so cruel?" she asked, words soft and shaky.
"What do you think your running off like this was to me? If a gut instinct hadn't told me to follow you, I might never have had the chance to hold our son. You don't think that's cruel?"
Her silence said it all. That she knew damn well she'd made a huge mistake. The tears streaming down her cheeks also said she hadn't had another choice. With her back against the wall, she'd chosen to tunnel under.
"I get it," he said, stroking his son's back, "but you have to know I mean you no harm. The last thing I intended was to deprive this baby of his mother. I just want him to also have a father. How can that be such a threat to you?"
Groaning, hands fisted, she paced.
"What does that mean?"
"That I'm confused, all right? For the record, Flynn hates strangers. Whenever old ladies at the grocery store ask to hold him, he screams so hard that his face turns red and splotchy. So why is it that with you holding him, he acts as if you're long-lost pals?"
"Think about it," Tag said, lowering the baby to a cradled position, affording him a better view of Flynn's little nose and mouth and closed eyes. "Half of him is me. You and I might be strangers, but this little guy and I, by our DNA, are intimately acquainted."
In front of a paned window looking out on the darkening forest, she froze. "You have a valid point, but Flynn's just a baby. I'm still breast-feeding. The logistics alone are---"
"Complicated," he interjected. "I get that, but not insurmountable. It's agreed that as long as you're still his...primary, um, food supplier, then Flynn should stay with you. But in the meantime, what if you and I spend the next few days at least trying to become friends? That way, when Flynn is old enough to spend time with me, maybe the idea won't be so abhorrent."
"So that's it?" she asked, turning to face him. "We become besties, and all of a sudden I'm happy turning my son over to you?"
Sighing, Tag said, "All I'm asking for is a chance to work this out in a civil manner---for Flynn's sake. Trust me, in a perfect world I'd take our son and never look back. The only reason I haven't already had you charged with kidnapping is that given the right circumstances, I might've run, too."
She'd again turned away from him, and though Tag couldn't be certain from his perch on the end of the bed, judging by her slumped shoulders and slight tremble, she was crying.
He rose, took two steps to reach her. Trying to come across as a friend rather than enemy, he said, "Give this a chance. You don't want to spend the rest of your life running any more than I want to spend mine chasing. Think about Flynn's well-being. How are you planning to educate him if you're on the lam? How are you going to earn a living? Where will you sleep? Bathe? Eat?"
"Stop!"
Olivia's shrieked command startled Flynn from his light sleep. His show of displeasure began with a fitful cry that, as he opened his eyes to find himself with a stranger, morphed into a full-on screaming fit.
"Nice move," Tag said, trying unsuccessfully to calm the infant.
"I'm sorry," she said, reaching for the baby. "If you'll just let me have him, I'll help him calm down."
Wary, Tag handed Flynn over and, sure enough, within a minute the infant's mother had him quietly sucking his tiny fist.
"Just guessing," Tag said, arms folded, "but that's the first time our son has been scared awake by angry words?"
"Of course. And for the record, the only reason he was this time was because you goaded me into it."
Hand clamped to his throbbing forehead, Tag asked, "When are you going to stop playing the victim and see that I'm struggling with this as much as you? Fact---like it or not, you wouldn't have Flynn if it weren't for my sperm."
"But I didn't choose you."
"Just like I wasn't even aware I'd become a father. But here's the beauty of it---instead of this being a lose-lose scenario, if you'd just be civilized, we could turn it into a win-win."
"The logical part of me understands that, but..." Cupping the back of Flynn's head, she said, "I can't---won't---share my son."
"So the way you see it, there's no amicable way to work this out?"
"Guess not." She lifted her chin higher, her expression unflinching. Gone were her tears. Now she'd taken on the same hard edge she'd had in court. The same one that had swayed the judge to rule in Tag's favor.
With a sarcastic laugh and shake of his head, he said, "You don't strike me as being a fool, so why are you acting like one?"
"Oh---I'm a fool for not wanting to hand my baby over to a stranger? For all I know, you could be some crazy person who collects kids for a...a---I don't know. Like a circus, or something."
"You don't for a second really believe that, do you?"
"No, but..." Her bottom lip quivered. Was she on the verge of crying again? "Awful stuff like that happens all the time. Just watch the news."
Softening his tone, he approached her. He wanted to keep what she would hopefully perceive as a safe distance while at the same time conveying the fact that he wasn't going anywhere soon. "Suppose for a moment I'm not a maniacal circus freak, and you're the rational, intelligent woman I suspect you normally are. You know full well from all of the court documents that I have a clear criminal record, make a more than decent living and have never even considered donning a pair of clown tights."
At that she laughed through sniffled tears. "You might. You know, like late at night when no one's watching."
Clutching his chest, he teased, "Thank God that secret didn't get spilled in court."
For a few awkward minutes neither spoke.
What was going through Olivia's head? Remembering her courtroom persona, he'd bet her tears were the first vulnerability she'd shared with anyone in a while---if ever.
She turned away from the window. "I'm sorry. You've made some valid points, but please don't expect too much too soon. The whole idea of sharing my son is..." She blanched. "I can't even find words to explain."
"Which is why you don't have to. Let's take this slow, okay?"
Sniffling, she nodded. "Thanks. But for the record, if I see you in tights, I'm bolting."
Grinning, thankful beyond words that the woman was at least open to trying to make shared custody work, Tag said, "Agreed."
"That's the last of it," Tag said, setting the laundry tub filled with food on the cabin's kitchen counter.
"Thanks for your help." Though Olivia had suggested they bundle Flynn in blankets and leave him in his carrier while they unloaded the car, Tag had insisted that he do the task. Looking at the pile of stuff, she was in awe of how much she'd managed to squeeze into the sedan.
"No problem." Shutting the cabin door behind him, he said, "It's feeling more like February outside. Want me to build a fire?"
"That would be nice." Though everything between them was quite civil on the outside, on the inside she was still reeling. Not just from the realization that by running she very well could have permanently lost Flynn, but from the fact that Tag wasn't the monster she'd instinctively made him out to be.
Had their roles been reversed, would she have called the law on him? The moment he'd first held Flynn had been spellbinding. The big tough oilman had vanished, and she'd been witness to silent tears. An unexpected vulnerability. What was she supposed to do with that? Fighting she was familiar with, but dealing with nice guys didn't compute. "Need help?"
"Nah. Seeing how the fire's pretty much laid out save for adding a match, I'm good. I am hungry, though. Any idea what there is to eat? I'm not a big fan of pureed peaches."
"Me, neither." Though she hadn't planned to, Olivia laughed. Something about Tag's dry delivery struck her as funny.
Would Flynn have his father's sense of humor?
The thought was as foreign as reading a take-out menu written solely in Chinese. How would she ever come to grips with the knowledge that the safe, predictable life she'd spent years planning had been turned upside down? She'd known all the important details of Donor A-178954. The most important of all was that she and her son would never have to factor the anonymous donor into their lives.
While Olivia set up a makeshift changing station on a low dresser, Tag lit the fire. In no time the flames filled the room with merry light and crackling. Under different circumstances, the scene would've been idyllic.
Too bad that currently, Olivia's stomach churned.
Washing his hands at the kitchen sink, Tag said, "Does this place have a room-service menu?"
"I think so. But only up until seven or so."
He glanced at his watch. "We have ten minutes. Happen to know where the menu is?"
"No doubt somewhere beneath all of this stuff." Just looking at the sheer amount of baby gear needing to be sorted brought on a headache. "Want to put the grate in front of the fire and hike over to the restaurant?"
"I suppose. What do we do with the baby? I mean, judging by all of these essentials the guy travels with, he's not exactly portable."
Again finding herself smiling, Olivia said, "Watch and learn."
FIVE MINUTES LATER Flynn, sporting a fresh diaper, hat and sweater, sat in his carrier, gumming a circular teething ring. Olivia had tugged a brush through her hair and grabbed a black cardigan. "We're ready if you are."
"That was fast," he said, taking Flynn's carrier in one hand and holding open the door with the other.
"I'm not the high-maintenance type."
"Good to know."
Without conversation they crunched down a gravel path that wound past twenty or so cabins, a winterized pool and tennis and shuffleboard courts. The cabins lined a hillside, at the bottom of which was a lake. She imagined glowing citronella candles in the summer. Children playing hide-and-seek and catching fireflies, couples sneaking kisses in rowboats.
On this night, the sweet wood-smoke-flavored air was nippy, but not too cold. An owl had taken up residence in one of the trail's oaks.
Only a few of the cabins had lights on inside, meaning that for the most part, they had the resort to themselves.
Mounting the lodge's rear steps, Olivia forced a deep breath. "Did you rent your own cabin?"
"Right after you settled into yours."
Mulling on that, Olivia made obligatory pleasantries with a teenage hostess/waitress who told them to take their pick of the dozens of mostly empty tables.
Tag deferred to her judgment, so Olivia picked an out-of-the-way alcove far from the room's other diners.
Once they were seated, the waitress brought menus and water. "Sorry, but in the off season, our selection's pretty limited. If you're hungry for breakfast, we can hook you up, but the only things we have for dinner are meat loaf, stuffed green peppers and spaghetti. Mashed potatoes and green beans come with everything."
"Thank you," Olivia said.
Tag echoed the sentiment. Once the bubbly blonde was out of earshot, he leaned across the table. "So much for the steak I've been craving."
"Meat loaf isn't your thing?" Olivia asked.
"Not unless it's Grandma's." He squeezed the lemon that had been catching a ride on the lip of his water glass.
"Is she still alive?"
"Yes, ma'am. Myrtle is ninety-three and still mows her own lawn with a hand-pushed reel lawn mower." After stirring the lemon into his water, he added, "Of course, her lawn is the size of a doormat, but still, I'm impressed every time she asks me to haul the thing out of her garage."
"She's in Little Rock?"
He shook his head. "Tucson. It makes my mother crazy. Still, we visit every chance we get."
"What do they think about your news?"
"You mean about Flynn?" He shrugged. "Truth is, they don't know. Till I held the little guy in my arms, I didn't want to get their hopes up. Losing Maria wasn't just hard on me, but the whole family. She was like the sun that our solar system revolved around." Fingering the edge of the menu, he said, "Sounds corny, but none of us are the same without her."
Eyes misty with unshed tears, he feigned great interest in the resort's limited menu.
Olivia did the same.
Myrtle sounded amazing. Like a woman she would very much like to meet. Strange, but she hadn't given much thought to the fact that by denying Tag his rightful custody of Flynn, she was also denying his family their heritage. Flynn, his heritage. Yes, he had her side of the family, but how much richer would his life be with two sets of loving grandparents doting on him.
"Okay?" her dining companion asked, having regained his composure.
Swallowing the all-too-familiar knot in her throat, she nodded. "I'm thinking the cheese omelet and toast seem the safest way to go. How about you?"
"I'm a risk taker," he said with much playful bravado. "Gotta go with the meat loaf."
TAG, A FORMER MARINE, had had gunshots wounds that hurt less than this! Puking for what felt like the hundredth time in a row, he'd have killed for a Sprite. However, thanks to Olivia, who would henceforth be known as Ms. Runaway, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere in a cold, creaky hut that was half the size of hers and not nearly as nice.
Inching from the bathroom to the phone, he called her cabin. It rang about twenty times before she answered. "Hello?"
"Hey," he said. "It's me. Tag. Sorry to bug you, but I'm over here dying from the killer meat loaf and wondering if you have a Sprite?"
"Oh, no. I told you to stick with a nice, safe egg."
"Look," he managed while holding another dry heave at bay, "spare the lecture for the morning. Did you happen to see a vending machine anywhere on the grounds?"
"Yes. Let me bundle up Flynn and I'll be right over."
"Bless you. Oh---and if a miracle box of saltines fell from the sky, that would also be welcome."
Ten minutes later a knock that sounded more like a series of kicks landed on his cabin door. Before he summoned the power to move, it groaned open. Management really needed to invest in a can of WD-40.
Olivia appeared like an angel dressed in burgundy paisley pj's and a black satin robe. Lord, even in the dead of night she looked ready for court. Working in her favor, though, was the fact that she presented two cans of cold Sprite and a fistful of individually wrapped crackers.
"You're a saint," he said, gripping his screaming stomach.
"No." She set Flynn's carrier next to the sofa, then foraged in the kitchenette for a glass and ice. "What I am is horrible for dragging you out here."
"Forget it," he said after the first delicious sip. "Crap happens. I forgive you. Where'd you find the saltines?"
"Alongside the vending machines was a small snack station. At this time of night the coffee would probably kill you faster than the meat loaf, but the crackers looked safe."
"Mmph...they're amazing. Thank you."
Olivia graced him with a cautious smile.
"What?" he asked after another swig of soda.
"It's just interesting to see this vulnerable side of you. It's nice---not that I wanted to see you sick, but..."
"I know what you mean. We have spent a lot of time in battle." Easing back on the sofa, he asked, "Have you much experience with nursing guys back to health?"
"Some." Was it his imagination, or did her sudden obsession with Flynn's hat signal she'd like to change the subject? Selfishly, Tag didn't care. He needed to know what made a beautiful, successful woman turn to a sperm donor to have a child.
"Care to elaborate?" he probed.
"No, but thanks for asking." Her exaggerated smile didn't come close to reaching her eyes.
"Are we agreed that you running off after the judge's verdict was a tactical mistake?"
"Yes," she said, eyes narrowed, tone wary.
"Then, seeing how I agreed to keep your secret, you kind of owe me, right?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Something about the late hour, the weakened state his body was in, made him incapable of B.S. "I want to know why you didn't have a baby the old-fashioned way."
Standing, her cool, controlled lawyer mask in place, she said, "I'm glad you're feeling better. See you in the morning."
"Will you, Liv?" He stood, as well. "Are you planning to run again? Should I take your car keys?"
Turning her back on him, she spat out, "You're not only being ridiculous, but insulting."
He shrugged.
"We might share a child, Tag, but that's it. I don't owe you my soul."
"Did I say you did? I just asked a simple question. You're the one getting all bent out of shape."
UPON RETURNING to her cabin, Olivia nursed Flynn, changed his diaper, then tucked him back into his crib.
Lying in her own bed, she closed her eyes, but just kept seeing Tag. Who did he think he was, grilling her like that?
Her reasons for choosing to be a single mom were none of his business.
Outside, wind clattered branches against the windows. The owl was back to doing his thing. The darkness was a little too complete, making her wonder why she'd chosen such a remote locale to run off to. A luxurious high-rise Dallas hotel would have been a much better choice. Maybe then she and Flynn might have gotten lost in a crowd.
Then what? her conscience interjected.
Tag had been right on one thing---she couldn't run forever. But she also couldn't stand any more of his pointed questions. Why? Honestly, because they hurt too badly. They reminded her of the relationship she'd thought had been perfection. Her former fiancé, Phil, had been everything she'd ever wanted in a man. Tall and blond and handsome, so handsome. A fellow attorney, he'd always seemed to know the right thing to say, no matter the circumstances.
Even on the night he'd shattered her heart.
Weary of reminiscing about matters she would never fully understand, she pushed back her covers and padded barefoot to stand in front of the dying fire. Glowing embers cast a comforting glow, but the radiant heat only brought on a fresh wave of matters best forgotten.
The August night she'd found Phil making love with her supposed friend, Dena, had been sweltering. Then a defense attorney at the prestigious D.C. firm of Wright, Patterson and Long, Olivia had just won a groundbreaking case. Phil had thrown a surprise party in her honor. Their Georgetown, turn-of-the-century brick bayfront had been packed to the rafters with friends and business associates. Aerosmith and rum punch were flowing---though Olivia hadn't touched a drop of the latter.
In what was not one of her finer moments but an awful lot of fun, Olivia had been dancing on the coffee table with her secretary and one of the firm's law clerks. Life had never been sweeter, and when throbbing rock faded into a slow song, she'd wanted the man who was to be her husband in just four short weeks to hold her in his arms.
Their wedding, to be held at the Mount Vernon Inn, would be divine. Their Fiji honeymoon even better. Even Olivia had to occasionally pinch herself in fear that her life's perfection was but a dream.
After a thorough search of the house had netted zero results in finding Phil, she'd ventured outside to the candlelit patio. The center cherub fountain was tinkling, fragrant wisteria was still in bloom. Since she'd discovered she was pregnant, the flowers' sweet scent turned her stomach. Ignoring the rush of nausea, she ventured down the garden's winding stone path. In the yard's far corner was a small pagoda, looking out over a reflecting pond. Phil had had it installed as a housewarming gift for her when they'd first purchased the home. Careful not to stumble in the dark on the stones' uneven surfaces, she called out, "Phil?"
No answer.
Rounding a Chinese maple, the feathery leaves brushing her cheek, she grasped the handrail of the bridge gracefully arching over the pond. "Phil!"
A giggle?
Oops. Was she on the verge of disturbing a tryst? Ken and Marlene had been dating forever. Had Ken finally found the cojones to propose? Excited for her friend, Olivia stepped off the bridge, only to see a flash of bare skin.
"I'm so sorry," she said in front of the pagoda, shielding her eyes. "Please carry on. I'm just looking for Phil."
"Olivia..." a man said.
She froze. "Phil? Is that you?"
"FORGIVE ME?" Tag, still a little sore but otherwise on the mend, took the empty seat across from Olivia. The lodge's dining room was surprisingly full, leading him to the conclusion that even the locals knew the only safe time to eat here was breakfast.
"For what?" Olivia snapped, not looking up from her Little Rock Gazette.
Flynn lounged in his carrier, happily gumming a pink rubber hippo.
Tag blanched at his son's fascination with such a feminine toy. "In the future, could we please stick with blue teething devices?"
Olivia rolled her eyes.
"Anyway," he said, turning over one of three spare coffee mugs on the table and helping himself to the fragrant brew in the carafe, "I feel bad for some of the things I said last night. Can we make a fresh start?"
For the longest time she just stared at him. Only then did he notice the dark circles under her eyes. "If by fresh start you intend to stay out of my personal business, then yes. By all means, I'm for it."
"Ouch." Stirring cream into his coffee, he said, "You are one tough cookie."
Eyes closed, hand to her forehead, she said, "Forgive me, but thanks to a certain lughead who ordered the meat loaf, I was up half the night."
"I resemble that statement." Grinning, Tag hefted Flynn into his arms, blowing a raspberry on his neck. The baby erupted in a fit of giggles. "So what should we do today? The sun's shining. Since it's pretty, want to find a nice rock and lounge like a couple of turtles?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Has anyone ever told you you're a very strange man?"
"For the record, I'm actually pretty popular."
Eyebrows raised, she asked, "With whom?"
"Most everyone on the planet but you." He winked, then consulted the laminated menu tucked behind the sugar shaker. "Okay, little man, what's it going to be?"
"I've only introduced him to organic fruits. Please don't feed him toast or anything. His one tooth couldn't handle it."
"And you think I'm strange?" To his son, he said, "We need to get you out more. There's a whole world of good, gummable stuff out there you need to try." When tickling Flynn's stomach brought on a drooling grin, Tag's heart swelled to a degree he hadn't believed possible since losing Maria. Debbie Downer across the table was a drag, but his son was just about the best-looking kid he'd ever seen. "When your momma's not looking, we'll get ice cream and chili-cheese dogs. Maybe even chocolate frosting right out of the tub."
Flynn giggled with an excited bounce.
"You're a bad influence already." Holding her arms out, Olivia said, "Hand him over. Everyone knows it's not good for an infant to have this much stimulation so early in the morning."
Ignoring the warden, Tag jiggled Flynn. "Who's the man?" he teased in a singsong tone. "Flynn's the man. Yes, you---"
The little man opened his mouth and spewed his breakfast all over Tag's white oxford shirt.
Without a word spoken, Olivia's satisfied look said it all.
"I know," he said, mopping his boy's face with a wad of paper napkins. "You told me so."
She laughed. "Not that I'm happy you got thrown up on, but I know my own son."
Had a buddy ralphed on him, Tag would've been ticked, but something about having his own son do it made it quite all right---especially since Tag himself had jiggled it out of him. "How about next time you tell me the reasoning behind your rule? That way, I won't be so determined to break it."
"Will do." She folded her newspaper and reached into a blue diaper bag she'd stashed on the seat beside her. Setting a travel-size box of diaper wipes on the table, she said, "Let me take him so you can run to your cabin for a quick change."
"Thanks," he said, handing over his son. "But alas, due to the nature of my abrupt departure, I have no other clothes."
She at least had the grace to redden. "They sell T-shirts in the lobby. My treat?"
"I'll take you up on that offer." While she fished in her wallet and pulled out a twenty, he stood.
Pocketing the money he ordinarily wouldn't have taken, he said, "Thanks. This covers about one-thirtieth of the expenses I've incurred to chase you."
In the lobby, from the same woman who'd checked him in, he bought an extra-large green Rolling Rock Resort T-shirt featuring a brown cabin on the front and a trout on the back.
"You know the lady with the baby?" she asked, pointing toward Olivia.
"Yes, ma'am." He squared his shoulders with pride. "We share a son."
"You're married?"
"No, ma'am."
Making a face, she said, "I don't understand."
"It's complicated." He took out his wallet. "Do you have another one of these shirts in a baby size?"
Apparently still mulling over his relationship with Olivia, she silently took a shirt from the shelf behind her.
Once he'd paid and she'd given him his change, she said, "You all aren't in my cabins alone after dark, are you? It's plainly stated on the rules on the back of the cabin doors that late-night commingling of unmarried guests isn't permitted. We run a family establishment here."
"Trust me," he said with a wink. "There shall be no co-anything going on with that woman. She's like ice. Brrr."
Grinning over the woman's shocked gasp, Tag headed for the men's room to wash up.
Back at the table, wearing his dorky green shirt and black suit pants, Tag presented his son with his first gift. "I thought it might be fun if we match."
Olivia looked at the shirt and then at Tag before laughing. "You'll look like the Jolly Green Giant and his mini-me."
"Who cares?" he said, more than a little miffed that as usual, she was spoiling his fun. "Hand over our kid."
She did, and while it was tough getting Flynn's damp red shirt over his head, Tag managed. Getting the T-shirt back on the baby was even tougher. Man, but the kid could squirm.
Finished and exhausted, Tag asked, "How do you manage?"
"What?"
"Caring for Flynn on your own? I mean, who comes to your rescue when you get spit up on?"
Returning the wipes to the diaper bag, she froze. Was she so focused on doing everything herself that it had never even occurred to her that she might need help? "I guess I've never needed rescuing. I've read enough on the subject that the whole baby thing wasn't daunting."
Eyes narrowed, he asked, "Is that your ego answering or your heart?"
"Why is it," Olivia asked, "that I'm the lawyer, yet you're the one who's always contentious?"
Flynn began to fuss, so Tag passed him across the table. "See? I'm more than happy to share."
She held Flynn to her chest, breathing him in.
"But back to my question. I mean, just looking at Flynn rocks me to my core. It floors me to see you sitting there, so utterly unaffected by his magic."
Leaning forward, she said, "How dare you say such a thing when I jeopardized my entire life to keep from having to share him? Just because I don't wear my heart on my sleeve doesn't mean I'm an uncaring person. It just means there are certain matters I prefer to keep private."
The waitress came with Olivia's meal, but her appetite was gone.
Tag ordered Grandpa's Special, a breakfast extravaganza featuring pancakes, two eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, hash browns and grits.
When the waitress left, Tag apologized again. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I'm having a hard time thawing your frost."
"Oh, give me a break."
"No, you give me a break. You act as if the whole world owes you something, but, honey, I'm here to tell you---"
"Leave me alone," Olivia whispered. "You have no idea what I've been through. I know your wife died, but I've lost someone, too. All in one night I lost my fiancé and then, while trying to get the hell away from him, I tripped on an uneven path and miscarried my unborn child, so if I come across as bitter for being on the verge of losing my son, I have a right."
Exhaling in a whoosh, Tag sat back. "It's official. I'm an ass."
"No..." Though she maintained her tough exterior, inside Olivia crumpled. "I'm sorry. From the moment I saw you hold Flynn, I saw the love in your eyes, your body language, your soul. You deserve to be with him as much as I do. But don't you see what a horrible position that puts me in? By admitting my baby is also yours, I---" Fearing she was on the verge of breaking down, Olivia hid her face against Flynn's chubby cheek. "I---I'm so afraid you're going to take him from me."
Tag rose, putting the diaper bag on the floor to sit beside her. "Never going to happen. All I want is for you to understand that we're in this together."
Daubing silent tears with a napkin, Olivia sniffled and nodded. "I'm going to try. Watching Flynn laugh with you...It reminded me of the way I'd hoped my life would always be. You know, with a husband and sweet baby, only you're not my husband, but---"
"I get it," he said, his voice gentle and kind. She hardly knew him, yet something about the sincerity in his eyes told her he was a man she could trust. "I've already had a wife, and I don't ever think I'll be capable of giving that kind of love again. That said, sharing Flynn makes us special friends. He's a bond we'll always have in common."
Again unable to speak from the maelstrom of emotion tightening her throat, Olivia was relieved when the waitress brought Tag's meal. If he was eating, hopefully he wouldn't be talking, raising issues she'd fought so hard to keep in her past. Did he think she hadn't pondered the implications of what Flynn's life would be like without a father? Every parenting book stressed the importance of a child having both parents. Of course, in a perfect world Phil wouldn't have screwed her best friend. She wouldn't have been incapable of trust, and she wouldn't have been afraid to try for another child with a man because she was terrified of suffering that kind of loss all over again.
Her decision to be artificially inseminated hadn't been an easy one. In the end, it had been the only route for her. After Gabby's wedding, she'd tried dating again, but the lack of trust had always resurfaced. Bottom line, there were millions of single moms out there, and a million more well-adjusted great kids raised by them.
"HOW DO I LOOK?" Tag asked, stepping out of the small-town department-store dressing room in a comfortable pair of Levi's. It felt damned good to be rid of his suit. After breakfast, though Olivia hadn't looked all that happy about the prospect of sharing a car ride with him, she'd agreed to accompany him on a shopping trip.
"Better," she said with Flynn riding her knee to the accompaniment of a canned show tune. "I'm no fashionista, but your whole vibe wasn't working."
"Consider yourself lucky you delivered that line with a smile." Yet one more thing Tag hadn't anticipated was purchasing a new wardrobe. Luckily the country store had all of the necessities. Jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, pj's, socks, boxers, hiking boots and tennis shoes.
Next stop was a drugstore, where he picked up toiletries and a razor. And a box of Sprite---just in case.
Back out on the quiet, tree-lined street Olivia said, "I am sorry. When I took off like that, I..." She kissed Flynn's forehead. "I hadn't thought it even part of the way through. If you'd like, I'll be happy to reimburse you for every dime you've spent."
"Thanks," he said, repositioning his many bags, "but it's not about the money. I still feel sick thinking about how horrible this could've turned out."
She nodded.
"Promise you won't scare me like that again?"
"I've learned my lesson. From now on, I'll behave."
Her answer wasn't the outpouring of remorse Tag had been hoping for. But they'd both been through a lot in the past few days, and for now, baby steps would have to do.
"Hungry?" he asked when she opened her car's trunk to dump his bags inside. They'd taken her car, for Flynn's safety seat and stroller. It unnerved him not being the one behind the wheel, but just as Olivia was learning to cope with the oddities of their predicament, so was he.
"Not even a little bit. After Grandpa's Breakfast extravaganza, I wouldn't have thought you'd need food for a week."
"It's not so much a matter of needing to eat," he said, "as it is a craving for something sweet. Come on, follow me." He commandeered the stroller and took off running down the street.
"Where are you going?" Olivia asked, jogging to keep up.
"Flynn and I need sugar."
"That's not on his diet!" she shouted, losing ground. Tag's new tennis shoes fit surprisingly well. He hadn't sprinted this fast in years.
While he'd been paying for his clothes, he'd noticed outside one of the store's windows a combination bakery and ice cream shop. Rounding the corner, he found it, and was standing at the front counter making his selection before Olivia even walked through the door.
"It's about time," he said, grinning to see her winded. It served her right to be chasing him for a change.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, hunched over and grabbing her knees. "No sane person takes off like that."
"Whoever said I'm sane?" He winked. "I do have all of that nutty circus blood in me."
She elbowed his ribs.
Five minutes later they sat on white parlor chairs three sizes too small for his frame. "I feel like I'm in a dollhouse."
"You were the one who said he'd die without something sweet," she said.
"It wasn't just me. Little Man needed ice cream, too." Tag held his double-dip, strawberry cheesecake and chocolate cone in front of his son. At first Flynn cautiously explored, but then he stuck his entire open mouth up against it and all bets were off. "Look at him go."
"You don't know how badly I want to yank that cone from your hand," she said, not at all amused.
"Lighten up. Look how happy he is." With Flynn's face covered in goopy, creamy, sugary goodness, his eyes had never shone so bright. While Tag hadn't seen Flynn that often, Tag had always been a big hit around his sister's kids. He knew a happy boy when he saw one.
Olivia already had her diaper wipes from the stroller's back storage area. "He's going to need a bath. Oh, Tag, now he's got his hands in it. Really, stop. He's going to throw up in the car."
At the mention of barf, Tag backed off with the cone. "Sorry, buddy. Mommy says you're done."
"Common sense says he's done."
Mocking her, Tag asked, "Does it exhaust you being hyper-responsible all of the time? Have fun. You'll live longer."
"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THIS," Olivia said two hours later while hiking down a steep, woodsy trail. "You told me to have fun, but this feels more like torture. Definitely not an activity designed to extend my life expectancy."
Tag wore Flynn on his back in a baby carrier he'd rented from Eleanor in the lodge. "What's not to like? This is great."
She had to admit that even though the leaves hadn't yet budded, the forest was still beautiful in its stark contrast to the deep azure sky. Great boulders tumbled topsy-turvy, covered in velvety green moss and lichen. "It's pretty and all, but isn't it dangerous? Flynn bouncing like a basketball?"
"You worry too much. And look at him. Does he look upset?"
"No, but..." Truthfully, judging by his big grin, wide eyes and the drool river running down his chin, he was having a ball.
"Relax," Tag called over his shoulder when she paused beside a bubbling brook for a break. She was winded, yet he acted as if he hiked miles every day.
So much for her biweekly treks to the air-conditioned gym.
Something about the way slanted sunbeams caught glints of gold in Tag's brown hair made her do a double take. In the time she'd known him, she'd focused solely on her dislike for the man. Only now did she really see something else. Like his size. Larger than life. Broad shoulders and a strong back that easily carried her twelve-pound baby boy. And then there was his profile. Squarish, with a hint of stubble. He wasn't drop-dead gorgeous in the conventional sense---at least, not the way Phil had been. But the kindness behind his brown eyes gave him an attractive air that went beyond surface features. His easy smile and strong white teeth made him a comfortable companion. Moreover, Tag's appearance provided clues as to what her son would grow to be.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." And surprisingly, she was. The farther they walked in companionable silence, the more she wondered about his past. He'd grilled her plenty, but she knew next to nothing about him. "Tag?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Did you and Maria go hiking a lot?"
"Not as much as we would've liked. She was a fourth-grade teacher and, never fail, whenever she was out of school, I was out of the country."
"With your work, there's a lot of travel?" Though it was hard for her to walk and talk, curiosity kept her questioning.
"Depends. Sometimes we're exploring new territory. Other times we're digging wells. Still other times I'm stuck behind my desk doing paperwork."
"Hmm...sounds scintillating," she teased.
"Oh, trust me. The rush of black gold spitting you in the face is better than hitting the lottery. You get great rewards, but making them even better is the fact that my team and I earned them."
"Makes sense." She admired that in him. That he wasn't looking for a free ride.
After another twenty minutes of huffing and puffing, Tag asked, "Ready for our lunch break?"
Laughing, wiping sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve, she said, "I've been ready for the past hundred miles."
"Just wait till this little guy is working toward his Scout badges. We'll be in the woods for days."
"Moms are included in that?" As much as she'd earlier wanted to experience every aspect of Flynn's life, now she wasn't so sure. Maybe sharing her boy with Tag wouldn't be so bad, after all. She could handle PTA and well-child visits while he handled science-fair projects and sports.
"No moms were allowed when I was a Scout." He helped Olivia slide free from her backpack. "But things might've changed. Anyway, we've got a few years to think about it."
Tag unloaded Flynn, who was cranky.
Olivia took out a blanket and spread it over a rock.
Tag set the baby on the blanket, playing with him while Olivia distributed sandwiches, chips and juice boxes.
"This is really working," he said.
"What?" She found homemade chocolate-chip cookies that Eleanor had also thrown in.
"Us. Working as a team." After taking a bite of his sandwich, he added, "It's nice."
"It is."
Flynn wailed.
"Correction." Olivia abandoned her meal to pick up the baby. "Our lunch was nice. Looks like someone else wants to eat before me."
"Want me to feed him?" Tag asked, putting his ham and cheese down on its foil wrap. "I don't mind."
"I appreciate the offer, but..." Flynn rooted at her breasts.
"Oh," Tag said, before really taking in the scene. "Ooooh." Reddening, he turned his back to her and stood, hopping off the rock. "I forgot. Um, you just go on about your business, and I'll be over here. Holler when you're done."
"Thanks." She, too, was embarrassed by the prospect of breast-feeding right here in front of him. When they'd set out, she'd been so preoccupied worrying about what Tag was likely to say next that she hadn't even thought about poor Flynn needing to be fed.
After unbuttoning her shirt, she went through the familiar motions of helping Flynn find his meal. During the week she expressed her milk for him to be bottle-fed at his Montessori day care, but it wasn't her preferred way to go. Even after pumping, her breasts ached. Almost as if her body was rebelling against being away from Flynn for too long.
The release of her milk was pleasurable, as was sharing the quiet time with her son. She used it to study him. His long lashes and deep brown eyes. The faint pink in his cheeks. The infinite shades of copper in his hair.
"I know it's not proper for me to say this to a young man," she whispered, stroking his chin, "but you're very pretty."
Ignoring her, he pressed his tiny fists into her left breast.
"How's it going over there?" Tag called out. He sounded a polite distance away.
"Fine. Almost done."
Once Flynn had eaten his fill and drifted off to sleep, Olivia closed her bra flaps, buttoned her shirt and set off in search of Tag. "Coast is clear!"
"Whew," he said with a seriously cute grin. "That was a little awkward---not that I don't wholeheartedly agree with you deciding to breast-feed our son, but---"
"I get it." Meeting his smile, she gestured for him to rejoin her on the blanket.
"I KNOW I DIDN'T HAVE a vacation scheduled, Alice. It just came up." Right about now Tag was wishing he'd left his cell at home. He'd been in his cabin only long enough to shower and shave, but already he was missing Flynn. And oddly enough, Flynn's momma---who was turning out to be quite a pistol.
"That's just fine and dandy," Alice said in her best scolding-kindergarten-teacher tone, "but what am I supposed to tell all the folks you have meetings with?"
"Hell, I don't know." With his free hand he slapped on lemony aftershave. "Tell them I'm sick. No---better yet, tell them the truth."
"And what exactly is that?"
"I can't stand being away from my son."
After working out the logistics, he said his goodbyes to Alice, made a few couldn't-be-put-off calls, then headed back over to Olivia's cabin.
On the way, he wished he had a bottle of wine or flowers. Maria would've had his hide for camping out at Olivia's place and not bringing a gift, but seeing as how the resort was in the middle of nowhere, his lack of manners couldn't be helped.
He had to knock only once before she tugged open the heavy door. She'd changed from the outfit she'd worn hiking into jeans and a lightweight yellow sweater. She usually wore her hair up---either in a complicated knot at the back of her head, or a ponytail. Tonight, however, she wore it down. Loose and wavy, draping her full breasts. He'd never thought of her in terms of being a woman. More like solely an adversary, but now that he had a second to think about it, she was really quite attractive.
"You, ah, look nice," he said, not sure what to do with his hands. Damn, he needed that gift.
"Thanks. It feels good to be clean. I didn't realize how dirty Flynn and I had gotten out on the dusty trail."
"Yeah." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "We could use some rain." Why did he suddenly feel awkward around her? This afternoon they'd never run out of things to say, but now he felt as tongue-tied and nervous as a pimple-faced kid on his first date. Only, this wasn't a date. The knowledge of which should have taken the pressure off, but oddly didn't.
"Flynn's conked out," she said. "I washed him and fed him again."
"I would have liked to be here for his bath."
"Tomorrow I'll be sure not to start until you're here. You probably need diaper lessons, too."
"That'd be great."
After a lengthy silence during which neither looked at the other, she asked, "You like old movies?"
"They're okay," he said, thrilled for something new to talk about.
"I was exploring the cabin and found a bunch of Doris Day classics. Want to watch one until Flynn wakes up?"
"Sure. Just one question."
"Shoot." She was already opening the entertainment center's doors.
"What's for dinner? And please don't say meat loaf."
AFTER DECIDING the only safe dinner route was vending machine snacks, sodas and microwave popcorn, Olivia and Tag made a pact to go to a nearby town's grocery store first thing in the morning.
"That was surprisingly good," Tag said after they'd finished watching Pillow Talk. "Maria loved Doris and Rock. She was all the time trying to get me to watch with her, but I thought they were too girlie for my taste."
"What was she like? Your Maria?" They'd watched the movie with Olivia stretched out beneath her bed's quilt on the sofa. Tag lounged in an overstuffed armchair, using the coffee table as an ottoman. He'd made a fire that valiantly worked at warming the drafty cabin. Flynn was snug beneath the covers in his portable crib.
"Italian," he said with a chuckle and reminiscent smile. "Great cook, sense of humor and a wicked temper whenever I left the toilet seat up."
Olivia laughed. "I don't blame her. Getting that surprise in the middle of the night is the worst."
"Yes, well, I've never seen it as a hanging offense, but I guess you women need to stick together. Anyway, she had crazy silky black hair and an olive complexion so perfect she never needed makeup."
"Mmm...I've always envied women like that."
"You're very nice-looking in your own way, but there will never be anyone else for me."
Ouch. She knew Tag hadn't meant his comment to be offensive, but like any woman, Olivia never appreciated hearing that she wasn't attractive. Covering her surprise over practically being called dog meat by her baby's father, she said, "I, um, know what you mean. I feel the same way about men."
Tag rose to add another log to the fire. Sitting on the stone hearth, he said, "I'm not trying to be nosy, but would you mind telling me about the man who ruined you for all others?"
It took her a few moments to think up the best way to describe him. "You only needed one word to describe Maria, but for Phil, I'll need five. Too. Good. To. Be. True. With him, I was blinded by love. Being with him was like breathing the rarefied air of a rock star. Something about him just made me feel special---at least until I caught him sleeping with my best friend."
"That sucks," Tag said by way of sympathy. "Guess she was getting those special tingles, too?"
"You're horrible!" Olivia pitched a red throw pillow at him, but then couldn't help but laugh. Actually laugh about something that for years had been dogging her every move. Phil's betrayal had been incomprehensible. Getting over it was still a struggle.
"No, Phil was the horrible one. I mean, look at you. You're a great catch. Pretty, successful, funny. He's a fool."
"Okay, wait. Just a minute ago you said I was---and I quote---nice-looking in your own way. Now my status is elevated to pretty?"
"Damn." He winced and covered his face with his hands. "The second I said that, I knew it would come back to bite me. In more eloquent words, you're actually seriously hot. But I didn't want you getting the wrong idea." Reddening, he added, "You know, like I'm planning to molest you, or something---like the closet circus freak you fear me to be."
Laughing, she said, "Thanks. My apologies for being offended when you were only trying to keep from scaring me."
"Apology accepted."
From out of nowhere, Tag's kind and funny words struck an emotional chord. It had been so long since she'd had outside confirmation that she was okay---better than okay. Somehow her friends and family support didn't mean as much as that of a practical stranger sharing a quiet, chilly night with her. Only, Tag wasn't a stranger anymore, but had become family. In a sense, through Flynn, she'd been living with Tag for months. A part of the man had grown inside her. The realization---the sheer intimacy of the fact---was so overwhelming she had to turn away.
"You all right?"
Eyes stinging, she nodded. For the first time in she couldn't remember when, she was beyond all right. She was reunited with the sensation that despite having lost her first child, despite Phil having emotionally destroyed her, her life was going on. And it was beautiful.
"Want me to rough up this Phil for you? I've got two big brothers. Between us, we could teach him a serious lesson."
Tag's question was so outrageous, she found herself wishing for another pillow to throw. But once again she was laughing, and that felt so good. And oddly enough, she had no one but Tag to thank for that unexpected gift.
"Holy crap, woman," Tag said the next day, surveying the mountain of food in their grocery cart, "how many days are you planning on staying out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm paid through Sunday." She grabbed a box of crackers. "And if I have to eat one more egg or package of chips, I'll go on a hunger strike."
Flynn rode in his carrier, gnawing with his one tooth on the pink hippo Tag hated but his son seemed to love.
"We sure have a good-looking kid. I like his feet."
"His feet?" Taking granola from a shelf, she eyed him funnily.
"Yeah, you know, how tiny they are. It's like they're not even real."
Looking especially pretty as she paused to view their son, Olivia tied his tiny Nike laces. Tag still felt bad for that comment he'd made about her being just okay-looking, but thankfully, she seemed to have forgotten. "I confess I'm addicted to baby shoes. The other day I found him the cutest red high-top sneakers."
"That sounds cool." Much better than a pink hippo. "Next time you shop for him, can I go?"
"Sure." Eyeing him, she asked, "You actually enjoy shopping?"
"Not usually, but looking for anything Flynn-related sounds like a good time."
"It is. I'll be sure to give you a call."
"Great. Thanks."
Selecting a bag of cheddar Goldfish for himself, Tag asked, "Does the resort cook real food during the high season?"
"Actually, yes. I stayed here with my firm a couple of years ago, but it was June. The food was home-style, stick-to-your-ribs delicious."
Rubbing his stomach, he said, "I could go for some of my mom's pot roast right about now."
"Want me to make you a roast?"
"For real?" he asked, eyebrows raised. For whatever reason, he didn't take her for the gourmet type. "You know how to cook?"
Hands on her hips, she scowled. "First you call me ugly, and now, without even tasting my food, you dis my kitchen skills? For that I'm thinking you don't deserve a roast."
"Hey! I never said you were ugly!" So much for her having forgotten his earlier observation on her looks. Time to pull out the big artillery. "What if I pay for all of the ingredients, and sign you up for a day at a spa when we get home?"
"Wow, all of that for one little roast? You're forgiven."
Together they gathered all the ingredients for dinner and plenty of fruit, healthy snacks, bottled water and diapers. By the time they loaded it all into Olivia's car and clicked Flynn into his safety seat, Tag was pooped. "I need a nap."
"That would be nice," she said, yawning while backing out of the lot. "Your place or mine?"
"Seeing how you're in the high-rent district," Tag said, "I'll take your couch."
"Works for me." The return trip to the lodge took twenty minutes. Unpacking the groceries and Flynn took another fifteen.
While Tag had been hauling, Olivia had been stowing everything away. For a vacation cabin, it had a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen when it came to pots and pans and utensils. Maybe they weren't the first guests to prefer their own cooking.
Flynn launched into a wail.
"Want to handle it?" Olivia asked.
"He's not hungry, is he?" Tag was prepared to handle anything fatherhood dished out, but breast-feeding might prove tough.
"Relax," she said with an easy smile. "I'm guessing by his cry---and the faces he was making in the car---that he needs a new diaper."
"I'm on it," he said, confident in his abilities to handle Flynn's crisis.
Famous last words...
With Olivia still in the kitchen, Tag stood in the bedroom in front of the makeshift changing table she'd assembled. With Flynn a screaming, flailing mess lying in front of him, Tag took a cautious approach. The leg snaps to his boy's jeans were easily undone, but the diaper's sticky tabs were seriously stuck.
Flynn cried all the harder.
"Hold on, little man," Tag said through clenched teeth. "Just a few more minutes and we'll have this under control." After ripping off the diaper, resulting in a wet, smelly pile of material he wasn't sure was even safe for his son to have on his body, Tag managed to pin a squirming Flynn with one hand while tossing the mangled diaper in the trash.
The baby's wails could have shattered glass.
"Everything all right in there?" Olivia called out. "Need help?"
"Nope." Though sweat had popped out on his forehead, no way was Tag admitting failure on this mission. He was a firm believer in fathers sharing all responsibilities in caring for their children. How hard could changing a diaper be?
The pop-up wipe dispenser seemed to have a jam, as one-handed, Tag couldn't get a sheet. With one hand firmly clamped over Flynn's chubby belly, Tag yanked extrahard on the plastic tub. The thing toppled onto the floor, but at least the wipe stayed in his hand.
Next Tag kind of daubed the area, but after the initial cleaning, it was tough figuring out what needed attention and what didn't.
He thought he had things handled when a golden stream erupted from---
"Hey, whoa!" Tag shouted, hoping he was loud enough for Olivia to hear in the kitchen. "We've got a gusher!"
Flynn carried on with his red-faced wail.
Laughing, Olivia jogged into the room. "Back away from the baby. I'm taking over."
As much as Tag hated admitting defeat, he was smart enough to know when he was in over his head. Holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, he said, "I bow to your expertise."
Rolling her eyes, she took over with practiced ease. In thirty seconds flat she had Flynn wiped down, grabbing him by his ankles as if he was a Thanksgiving turkey.
"What're you doing?" Tag asked, eyebrows raised. "That doesn't look normal."
"Steady there, Mr. Mom. This technique is standard operating procedure. I learned it in my Baby & Me class."
"Sure?"
"You're being ridiculous." With Flynn's rump held six inches off the changing pad, she slid a diaper under him and then, pulling a few origami moves, had a still-sniffling Flynn diapered and dressed in fresh clothes. "There, did that look so hard?"
"Yes," Tag complained. "But I'll figure it out."
Lifting Flynn off the dresser and into her arms, she soothed, "Shhh...I know, sweetie. You prefer working with competent people, don't you?" Eyes smiling, she elbowed Tag on her way back into the kitchen. "Think you can handle holding him until I wash my hands and get the potatoes peeled?"
"Give me that kid." A few minutes later Tag had washed his own hands and returned Flynn to his usual grinning, drooling self. As for the whole diapering thing, he'd take another stab at it later. After all, if teen babysitters did it, how tough could it be?
"THIS IS AMAZING," Tag said of her roast. Since no wildflowers were yet blooming, he'd picked her a surprisingly pretty weed bouquet that now sat in a plastic pink tumbler, gracing the center of the table. Though it was only four in the afternoon, clouds had moved in, making it already fairly dark.
"Thank you." Why, she couldn't say, but Olivia glowed under Tag's praise. It had been a while since she'd done something as simple as cook a meal for an appreciative audience. Sure, she'd fixed snacks for Gabby and Steph, but that wasn't the same. "Every Sunday Phil and I used to cook a big dinner for coworkers and his family. My dad died of cancer a couple years back, and Mom missed him so much, she didn't last much after him. Knowing I was kind of an orphan, Phil's parents were great. We still exchange Christmas cards."
After taking another bite, he said, "I was close with Maria's family. It helped having them to lean on after she was gone."
"I'm sure. Plus, I imagine it wasn't awkward with them the way it was for me. I mean, you and Maria were the loves of each other's lives. Phil..." She shrugged. "Well, let's just say his parents were about as sickened by his actions as I was. I could tell they were sympathetic to what I was going through, but Phil is their son."
"We are some pair," Tag said, spreading butter on a roll. "Miserable to the core."
"Speak for yourself," Olivia said, bristling at his implication that because of Phil, she didn't lead a fulfilling life. "I have Flynn and great friends and my mom's sister and her husband. I have a great career and home and before you came along, I was happy. Genuinely content."
"Thanks." Expression hard, he said, "I was referring to our mutual lack of interest in the opposite sex. You didn't have to make it personal. I don't like the idea of sharing Flynn any more than you do, but those were the cards we were dealt."
"I'm sorry." Head bowed, she searched for words that wouldn't come. How did she explain that although she was enjoying getting to know Tag, she still had concerns about how the logistics would be dealt with back home? Tag lived thirty minutes from her. She couldn't imagine being so far from Flynn for one night, let alone a week or more. "I just---"
"I get it, okay? Let's get back to trying to make the best of this, and steer clear of personal subjects."
"Agreed." While Flynn napped in his carrier a safe distance from the warm, cracking fire, Olivia resumed eating, only the meal now tasted flat. The mashed potatoes and glazed carrots and once-sumptuous roast might as well have been cardboard.
"Do you have any hobbies?" Tag asked.
"No."
"What are your favorite pizza toppings?"
Glaring at him, she asked, "What's the point of this?"
"Getting to know you better, since apparently we still have some deep-seated issues to work out."
"You're a drama queen." Pushing her chair back, she took her plate and set it on the kitchen counter. She turned to Flynn. "We're going for a walk."
"Not with our son."
Olivia sighed. "What? Do you think I'm going to take off hiking across the Ozarks with him? Set up camp in a cave?"
"Leave him," Tag said, also standing. "As a sign of good faith."
"You can't even change a diaper," Olivia was all too happy to point out. "What are you going to do if something worse pops up?"
"Oh---like in the next thirty minutes he's going to come down with malaria or chicken pox?"
Lacing her tennis shoes, Olivia said, "It could happen. Besides, how do I know you won't drive off with him in your great big car?"
Tag shook his head. "Do you still honestly think so little of me that I'd put Flynn in a vehicle with no car seat?"
Perching on a sofa arm, she said, "I don't even remember what started all of this. We're talking in circles."
"Oh," he said with a sharp laugh, "I'll remind you exactly what started this. You saying that before you knew I existed, you were happy. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like you just wanted what I could give you---a son. You didn't even give a crap whether my parents ever meet their grandson."
"Whoa---if the sperm hadn't been yours, but that of the donor I'd selected, it wouldn't have even been an issue. If you want someone to blame, look to the lab. Didn't you even question the fat settlement they've offered? Face it, we were both screwed."
So furious she was finding it tough to even focus on the matter at hand, Olivia said, "I've got to get out of here, and in my current state I have no business caring for Flynn. Give me your car keys, and I'll give you mine."
"That doesn't make sense. Your car has the safety seat."
"Good point." Stopping at the counter where they'd both dropped their keys, she took both sets. "Now we're even. You have Flynn, and I have the transportation. See you in fifteen minutes."
WITH THE DARK SKY threatening rain, Olivia didn't go far in terms of physical distance---just headed along the trail winding through the cabins. Emotionally, however, she was all over the map. She didn't know what had prompted her to say such a thing to Tag. He'd been wonderful. Kind and funny and helpful. Gut instinct told her Flynn was lucky to have the man for a father. But another, deeper instinct told her she had a far greater problem.
The fact that with every walk she and Tag shared, every laugh over an old movie, every meal, conversation and even their trip to the grocery store, she was starting to enjoy his company more.
It hadn't been until the diaper debacle, though, that she'd realized just how much fun sharing parenthood could be. It was like going on a vacation with someone you love and sharing the sights. Not that she loved Tag. But his wanting to go baby shoe shopping was a rush. Flynn practically peeing on him and Tag still not running screaming was indescribable.
She hadn't been aware that men like Tag even existed. And the sad truth was that she'd been better off not knowing. Because then she didn't have to wonder what if? What if she'd never met Phil? Never been emotionally destroyed by him? What if she'd met a man like Tag first? Or even Tag himself? How might her life have turned out differently?
Hand clamped over her forehead, she stopped, sitting hard on a log bench.
"What's wrong with me?" she whispered to the squirrel chattering in the oak tree above her. One minute she was enjoying Tag's company, the next she was snapping his head off. What was wrong with her? Tag no doubt thought she was a total head case.
Speaking of the handsome lug...
With Flynn looking safe and loved in his arms, Tag strolled down the path. "You've been gone more than fifteen minutes and I heard thunder. I was worried."
He was worried?
Her heart lurched. No, no, no. She wasn't the least bit attracted to him. He wasn't even remotely hunky, standing there holding her grinning son---their grinning son.
"I, um, want to apologize," he said. "I shouldn't have flipped out over a few simple words."
"No, I'm sorry," she said, only just now realizing that she was. "I blew everything out of proportion. I do that a lot. Maybe even with Phil I should've---"
"Don't even go there. Phil was an ass."
"Yes," she said with a firm nod and smile. "Yes, he was. How insightful of you to bring that to my attention."
He bowed his head. "My pleasure." Sighing, he asked, "Truce?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. I hate to fight."
"Me, too." She smiled.
He smiled.
He held out his hand. "Walk with us?"
If the knot in her throat grew any bigger, she thought, she wouldn't be able to breathe. Not trusting her voice, she interlocked her fingers with his.
TAG, BEING A MAN AND ALL, couldn't be sure, but after their blowout, he sensed a change in Olivia. She seemed more relaxed around him. More at peace with their situation.
With a steady rain falling outside and the cabin rumbled by occasional lightning and thunder, he was in the kitchen, washing up and putting away the leftovers from her delicious meal. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her asleep.
Flynn nestled against her chest, she'd curled onto her side, resting her head on two throw pillows. The storm had left the cabin chilly.
Turning off the water, he dried his hands on a dishcloth, grabbed a blanket from Olivia's bed and quietly tucked it about her and Flynn.
Repositioning, she softly sighed, barely parting her lips.
Gorgeous lips.
Bow-shaped shaded in rose.
The thoughts caught him off guard. She was his son's mother. Not a woman to appraise or view in any way other than platonic.
He made a fire, and once it crackled with warmth, he returned to the dishes. The cabin's quiet was unnerving. Since losing Maria, he'd learned to live with silence. Didn't like it, but dealt with it. Now, after a few days of conversation and laughter, he realized how much he'd missed the simple pleasure of sharing his daily life. Meals. Musings on an interesting newspaper article. Nothing earth-shattering, but comforts all the same.
With the kitchen returned to order, Tag found himself at loose ends. Olivia was sleeping soundly, even occasionally snoring. He grinned at the notion that she probably wouldn't want him witnessing what she'd perceive as a weakness, but he found the chink in her usual defensive armor to be adorable.
Should he turn out the lights and head back to his cabin?
Probably, but he couldn't bear it. Being with Flynn made him whole once again. Being with the infant's mother was an added bonus.
After a few minutes' pacing, he took a book from a ragtag collection shelved on the mantel. Though the story was a bestselling thriller, Tag couldn't seem to focus. The spy plot didn't seem half as exciting as the sight of Flynn's long eyelashes sweeping his chubby cheeks. Or the way every once in a while he'd pucker his plump lips. Had there ever been a more beautiful child?
If only Maria could see him. But then maybe she could. Tag liked to think a part of her was still with him, smiling down on his good fortune of having a son.
"Tag?" Her voice raspy with sleep, Olivia stirred. "Mmm...how long was I out?"
"Just long enough to skip out on doing dishes."
She grinned. "I'm good."
If she hadn't looked so damned cute, Tag would've pitched his book at her. "Consider yourself fortunate I'm a gentleman."
"Oh, I do," she said, easing upright, being careful not to wake Flynn. "Want to assist me in putting him to bed, and then watch a movie?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
Tag helped Olivia off the sofa, then walked with her to the bedroom. "Does Flynn need a bath or anything?"
"Probably," Olivia said as she eased their son into his portable crib. "But one night of filth won't hurt him."
"Sure?" Tag asked, genuinely concerned.
She laughed.
"What's funny?"
"You," she said, still giggling while covering Flynn. "We've got to get you some on-the-job training, or you'll never make it to Flynn's five-month birthday."
Trailing after her into the living room, he said, "On the job. I like the sound of that. Yeah." He parked himself on the sofa. "I'm a hands-on kind of guy. So how are we going to make this work? Or are you planning on giving me a crash course over the next few days?"
"I guess." She popped a movie into the VCR and wrinkled her nose. "I haven't thought it out that far."
"What's tonight's fare?"
"With Six You Get Eggroll. It was Doris Day's last movie."
Pretending to be enthusiastic, Tag said, "Hmm, sounds good."
"It is," she argued. "Give it a chance. You liked the last one, didn't you?"
"If I admit it, does that make me less of a man?"
The comment earned him a swat. "You're horrible."
He smiled before putting his feet on the coffee table.
Though he wouldn't give Olivia the pleasure of hearing it, this movie turned out to be good, too. Not especially cerebral, but entertaining nonetheless. The interesting part was the way two single parents came together to form a new family. It was rough going, but they made it work. Which made him think..."Hey, Olivia?"
"Yes?" she said as she poured herself a glass of iced tea from the fridge.
"You know how in the movie Doris Day and Brian Keith were both single, but ended up together?"
"Uh-huh."
Excited by his plan, Tag went to her and poured a glass of tea for himself. "What if we tried the same? Not like getting married or anything, but solving our dilemma of how to share Flynn by doing the obvious---living under the same roof?"
Once Olivia stopped choking on her last sip of tea, she asked, "Are you crazy? That would never work. The movie was Hollywood, Tag. Not real life."
"I know that. But what if we could make it work?" He set down his glass, lightly cupping her shoulders. "Think about it. We'd lead our separate lives by day, but by night we'd be roomies who happen to share a baby. Kind of like Will and Grace, only I'm straight."
"You watch Will and Grace?"
"What can I say?" His mouth parted in a slow grin. "The late-night reruns sucked me in and now it's my guilty pleasure. Anyway, focus. Liv, think about it. It's a win-win for all three of us. Flynn gets a full-time mom and dad. And since neither of us is looking for anything more than friendship and my house has more than enough room---hell, private wings for each of us---I dare you to come up with one good reason why this isn't the answer to our every problem."
For the longest while, Olivia played out scenarios in her mind. Pros and cons and logistics. While she'd originally shot down Tag's idea, the more she thought about it, the more sound the plan became. No more sleepless nights, wondering how she'd live through learning to share her son. More shared meals and laughter and quality time spent in the adoration of the infant who meant more to her than she'd ever dreamed possible.
"You're quiet," Tag said. "What're you thinking?"
"Honestly?"
"That'd be much appreciated." He flashed her a slow, intoxicating smile. Correspondingly, her pulse took off at a gallop.
Licking her lips, trying to make sense of the fact that Tag's expression had affected her to such a degree, she forced a deep breath. "Truth? You're a genius. Yes. Flynn and I will move in with you."
"I CAN'T BELIEVE we're going home tomorrow," Olivia said, trailing her hand in the lake's clear green water. The weather was cooperating again, with plenty of sun and temperatures in the mid-sixties. Flynn sat in his carrier between her feet while Tag rowed. The lake smelled musky and fishy and alive. With any luck, spring was right around the corner.
"I can't believe you're sitting there like Cleopatra while I manhandle your royal barge."
"You're the one who yelled at me for not having more fun," she reminded him, tilting her face back to catch more rays. "I don't know about you, but Flynn and I are quite content."
He playfully growled, but then, expression turning thoughtful, he rested his forearms on the ends of the still oars. "What do you think people are going to say?"
"About what?"
"Us moving in together. Think it will come as a shock, or will everyone understand that this is the best solution for all involved?"
The water lapping on the aluminum boat's hull was hypnotic, making Olivia more relaxed than she'd been in months. "At this point I can't imagine anyone not supporting our decision. It makes a ton of sense."
"I think so," he said, swatting at a buzzing fly, "but I'm afraid my mom is going to pitch a fit."
"Why?" The fly landed on Flynn, and Olivia shooed it away. "I'd think she'd be happy for us."
"I'm thinking she's going to wonder why we're not getting married."
"Why would we? We hardly know each other."
"True, but in many ways Mom reminds me of Eleanor and her ridiculous no-cohabiting signs." Shaking his head and smiling, he said, "She was born a century too late."
"I'll bet she's sweet."
"Oh, I didn't say she wasn't, just that as a grown man, I'm not looking forward to getting a lecture on making an honest woman out of you."
Staring across the lake's glassy surface, Olivia pondered Tag's latest statement. She wasn't sure why, but it hadn't occurred to her that family and friends would disapprove. "Are you really worried about this?" she asked. "Or just hashing it over in your mind?"
"It's on a slow simmer. I don't care what anyone thinks---I mean, it won't change our plan one way or the other---but it's always nice to have support."
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR ever-loving mind?" Stephanie had been sitting on the foot of Olivia's bed, watching her unpack her suitcase, only to put items into a moving box. Now she paced. "You don't even know this man. He could be some deranged psycho stalker."
Arms crossed, Olivia shot her friend a glare. "Oh, for heaven's sake, couldn't you at least try being supportive?" Olivia had been home from the resort for two days, and in that time she'd boxed most of her personal belongings. Tag had helped, especially with Flynn's clothes, toys and bedding.
Upon hearing the news that Olivia was moving in with her baby's father, her aunt and uncle, Stephanie and Gabby had all had the same opinion---that Olivia was suddenly a few peaches short of a bushel. The one thing her friends and family didn't realize was that Olivia had no other choice. Tag's suggestion that they share Flynn and a home had been so simple, she'd wondered why she hadn't thought of it first.
"Honey..." Steph said, softening her tone. She took Olivia's hands. "When Gabby first told me about this, I didn't believe her. You're the rational one. You think everything through and analyze. You don't move in with a man after knowing him just a couple of weeks---speaking of which, that whole stunt of running off was ludicrous. Gabby and I are ready to lock you up for observation."
Though Olivia was warmed by her friend's concern, it did nothing to change her decision. "While I understand that you're worried, you have to see where I'm coming from. Steph, can you even imagine what it would've been like for Gabby had Ben threatened to take Jack from her?" Ben was not only Gabby's first love and Jack's biological father, but Dane's little brother. Complicated didn't begin describing their relationship. Lucky for all, Ben now resided in L.A., where he was a regular on an afternoon soap. "And once you're done with that, think back to me. My threat's coming from a man I barely even know who has every legal right to tie me and my child up in a custody battle that'd make the Civil War look downright neighborly."
"Oh, Liv..." Steph's voice caught. "You're doing this out of fear? No, no." Reaching for her cell, she said, "I'm calling Gabby and Dane. They'll know what to do to get this guy permanently out of your life."
"Stop," Olivia said, putting her hand over her friend's phone. She cast Steph a reassuring smile. "You've misunderstood. Yes, at first I was afraid of Tag. What he might do. But then I saw him with Flynn and I melted. He loves my baby every bit as much as I do. Do you have any idea what a turn-on that is? Not in a sexual way, but on a deeper level I can't even begin to describe. He's a good man. Honorable. Like your Michael."
"Now you're really scaring me. Don't tell me you've fallen for the guy?"
Laughing, taking a few of her favorite framed pictures of Flynn from her dresser and putting them in the box, Olivia said, "Of course I haven't fallen for him---at least, not in the way I assume you mean. We're friends. You'll see, once you get to know him, Tag's a really great man. Compassionate and funny, and whenever he talks about something dear to him, he has this adorable little habit of a muscle ticking in his jaw that I---"
"You have fallen for him." Crushing her in a hug, Steph said, "I'm so happy for you. This changes everything. I've never really taken you for the love-at-first-sight type, but throw in the right chemistry and voilà!" The hopeless romantic clapped her hands with glee.
"Whoa." Olivia crossed her arms and scowled. "You might want to lay off the fairy dust. Tag's a great guy, and on his way to becoming an amazing father, but that's it. You know what Phil put me through, and I'm not willing to put myself through that kind of pain again. Besides which, Tag's a widower. Like you, he's already had the love of his life, and isn't the least bit interested in replacing Maria's legacy."
"Blah, blah, blah," Steph said, sitting on the bed. "I mean, it's sad that his wife died, but that doesn't mean his life has to end. Or yours, for that matter. Michael made me promise I'd give love another try. All I'm saying is maybe you should, too."
"You're impossible." Olivia closed the flaps on her latest full box. It seemed hard to believe she was leaving the house she loved, but no matter her friend's opinion, Olivia knew she was doing the right thing.
Is that why you're not selling your house? Or even renting it? Because you're one hundred percent certain that you and Flynn and Tag will live happily ever after?
Ignoring the worrywart voice in the back of her head, Olivia further reasoned that there was nothing wrong with having a contingency plan should things not pan out.
Rising when crying erupted from the baby monitor, Steph said, "I'd rather be impossible than delusional. Mark my words, even if you refuse to admit it, there's more going on here than simple cohabitation."
"HOLY CRAP, WOMAN," Tag said, collapsing into an armchair. Flynn, cooing and grinning, swatted at the array of toys dangling above his carrier. "You've got a lot of stuff."
"Looks to me," she said, tilting her head back to view the vaulted ceiling, "like you've got room to hold it. Why'd you ever need so much space?"
Swigging the tall-neck beer he'd just opened, he shrugged. "Back when I had this place built for Maria, her folks and three sisters and their families were over all the time. I've got two brothers and a sister, so they were also over a lot with their broods. Plus, we'd always planned on having our own supersize crew."
"Makes sense, then...." She was still looking around with wide-eyed fascination. Tag had always been proud of the home he and Maria had created, but never more so than when it was appreciated by others. It was styled in the flavor of the Palladio-designed Italian villa they'd stayed in on their honeymoon, and though the Pulaski Heights home was only ten years old, it blended in well with the pine-forested lot located on a bluff high above the Arkansas River.
No expense had been spared, including the hand-chiseled stone exterior, the copper-pointed roof and custom terrazzo floors. And while all of this could have come across as imposing, Maria had worked with an interior designer to ensure the house still felt like a home rather than a museum. Oversize leather couches combined with dark walnut side tables provided the foundation for Maria's extensive seashell collection and countless books and sumptuously upholstered side chairs.
"How many rooms are there?" Olivia asked.
"Thirty---give or take a few." He shrugged. "Living here on my own, I've been tempted to sell a couple of times, but..." His gaze rose to the magnificent portrait of Maria that he'd had commissioned as a gift for her thirtieth birthday. A year later she'd died. Literally hundreds of framed photos were tucked into nooks and crannies all over the house, reminding him of happier times. "I couldn't bear parting with it---not so much the house, but the memories."
"Understood." Arching her head back, exposing the elegant column of her throat, she said, "The home I shared with Phil was sweet. I thought about fighting him for custody, but just the opposite of your experience, the home's good times had been spoiled for me. In the end, all I'd wanted was to run as far from that house and Phil as I could get while still having hot and cold running water and cable TV."
Tag laughed. But then, eyeing the sadness behind Olivia's smile, he sobered. Leaving his armchair to sit alongside her, he took her hand, slowly stroking the top. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to be treated that way."
"Thanks," she said, not bothering to hide a sniffle. "My friends think I'm crazy for moving in here."
"What do you think?" Her skin was soft. Not quite as smooth as their son's, but nice to the touch all the same.
"That depends." Forcing a smile, she asked, "What are you making for dinner?"
"Sorry, but it's looking like frozen pizza."
"That's okay." She rose. "Do you have a map to help me find my room, or do I get a hunky tour guide?"
"I can arrange that," he teased, flexing his arm muscles.
She made a face. "What I had in mind was more in the Matthew McConaughey range."
"Oh, so that's how we're gonna play it?" With a playful growl he charged at her, easily scooping her kicking and laughing over his right shoulder while running in the direction of her room.
"Stop!" she squealed. "What about Flynn?"
"He looks perfectly content to me." Tag took the formal winding staircase two steps at a time. "Besides, we'll never be out of earshot."
A minute later Tag dumped Olivia on the king-size bed in the suite he'd picked out for her. Originally designed for Maria's favorite big sister, it featured soft green walls, a lace-draped canopy bed, plenty of thick Oriental carpets and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the sparkling river hundreds of feet below.
"Here you go. How was that for service?"
Rubbing her back, she quipped, "Bumpy."
"Sorry." He grinned. "I couldn't resist."
"It's okay." Ducking, maybe even blushing a little, she admitted, "It was fun. I haven't laughed that hard in forever."
"Me, too."
"Looks like you thought of everything," she said, nodding to the crib in a windowed alcove. He'd also purchased a changing table and matching dresser. Already neatly assembled were diapers and wipes and powder and lotion. In the adjoining bathroom were a pint-size infant tub and shampoo and plush hooded towels his secretary had helped him find in a variety of animal designs. "Thank you. It's better than anything I'd expected."
"You're welcome." He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath while awaiting her reaction. "And look, you need to know that I'm not prone to jumping into things, either. But this is right. Us being together for Flynn. Without sounding like some sappy Dr. Phil special, I feel it in here." He patted his chest.
Grinning, she said, "Ditto. Want to help get all of Flynn's boxes unpacked?"
"Absolutely."
"THIS IS AN INDOOR POOL, Tag." Hands on her hips, Olivia wasn't sure how to best approach the pillared, marble soaking tub currently being filled with water flowing from a golden swan beak.
"You don't like it?" he asked, a squirming Flynn in his arms. They'd just finished a frozen gourmet pizza and a bagged Caesar salad. Considering the fact that she hadn't had to eat alone, it had tasted delicious.
"If I were at a spa, I'd be in heaven, but I'm just not sure of the logistics."
He looked crestfallen.
"But you know what?" she said with forced cheer. "Together we're going to make this work. With a little ingenuity, it'll be fun."
"Name it. What do you need me to do?"
"First," she said, spying the blue plastic infant tub perched in a corner, "you'll need a bathing suit."
"I can do that." He turned to the door. "Anything else?"
"Nope. I'll dig through boxes for mine, and then we'll rendezvous back at the Roman bathhouse."
"Quit with the digs. Maria was proud of this room. She grew up in a two-bedroom home shared by six other people. She worked her way through college, hoping to provide her own children with the kind of fairytale life she'd never had. Having her sister stay in this room brought my wife great joy. If you don't like it, you can---"
"I'm sorry." Crossing to him, she slipped her arms around him for a hug. Tag held Flynn in the crook of his right arm. Being this up close and personal to her baby's father was overwhelming, but she persevered. She'd caught whiffs of his citrus aftershave before, but now she found herself immersed in the heady scent. From a few feet away she'd recognized him to be a strong man, but touching him like this alerted her to the fact that his body was rock hard. Pulse racing, she added, "Really, truly. I've never seen anything this beautiful outside of a magazine and it caught me off guard. It will be a privilege to live here."
"I'm sorry, too," he said, backing away as if bothered by her touch. "So..." He hitched his thumb toward his room at the other end of the long upstairs hall. "Let me get my suit, and we'll get to work."
Momentarily on her own, since Tag and Flynn had become inseparable, Olivia gazed in the double-sink vanity mirror. She looked normal. A little tired maybe, but her hair was neat. Her black slacks and white blouse were still crisp. She'd only given Tag a hug, so what about it had made him release her as if she carried the plague?
Why do you care?
Her conscience's question was fair enough. Maybe she cared because she hugged her friends all the time.
Male friends? When's the last time you hugged a male coworker? Or Dane?
Oh, for heaven's sake. Fingers to her temples, she rubbed. This was ridiculous. She wasn't on trial here. Now that she and Tag would be living together, so-called normal rules didn't apply.
Turning her back on the accusing mirror, she felt the water, found the temperature just right, then turned off the taps. Behind the tub was a wall of windows overlooking a garden featuring some early wildflowers growing amongst a haphazard tumble of boulders. Beyond that was a pine forest shielding Tag's house from the neighbors.
"Where's your suit?"
Startled, Olivia put her hand to her pounding heart. "You scared me."
"Sorry. Me and the little guy are ready for bath time, though, so if you want to get in on the fun, you'd better get out of those uptight duds and into something more suitable for the beach."
In a walk-in closet larger than her former bedroom Olivia dug through three boxes before finding the right one. Never having been a big swimsuit fan, she removed a simple black tank designed to cover more than it showed.
From the bathroom came giggles and happy laughter from both Flynn and Tag.
In record time she tugged out of her clothes and into her swimsuit.
"No fair starting without me," Olivia complained, climbing the three steps leading to the pool, then easing in. The water was a little cool for her taste, but perfect for Flynn, who was the reason for the strangest bath time she'd ever shared.
The bath was at least twelve feet long by eight feet wide, and boasted underwater benches angled just right for reclining.
It was near the top of one these benches that Tag had perched Flynn's minitub and was scrubbing the baby head to toe.
"How am I doing?" Tag asked.
"Looks good to me. Although you missed a spot behind his right knee."
"Damn," Tag muttered under his breath. "And here I thought I had everything."
"Relax," she said, rubbing her son's wet tummy. She sat on the soaking tub's edge, knee-deep in warm water. "I'm teasing. You're doing a great job."
"Speaking of great," he said, "you look nice in that suit. Maria favored one-pieces, but I always teased her about wanting to see her in a bikini."
"Oh." Why, she couldn't say, but Olivia was growing weary of Tag's constant references to his wife. Which made her feel like the most hateful woman in the world. What did it matter to her if Tag was still in love with a memory?
Framing her face with her hands, she realized she had no answer. Jealousy? No way. She'd vowed never to put her heart out there again.
"How's he looking now?"
"Huh?" She glanced up to see her sudsy son giggle. Flynn's bath time was one of her favorite parts of the day. How had she let it slip by? "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Where were you just now?"
"My mind was wandering to a case." She hated telling the white lie, but what was the alternative? Admitting what? That she might have been jealous that he spent more time talking about his deceased wife than her? "I've, um, been away from work for too long and things are starting to pile up."
"Know the feeling," he said, using a supersize plastic cup to rinse Flynn. "Which reminds me---what do you think about hiring a nanny? Just for the daytime, but I like the idea of Flynn being at home rather than in a germ-infested day care."
"For the record," Olivia said, bristling at the implication that Flynn wasn't receiving the best of care, "I visited literally dozens of child-care facilities to find just the right one. They're very particular about parents keeping sick children at home. And when Flynn is home, a grandmotherly type with impeccable references watches him."
"Is she available?"
"Not full-time. Probably not at all considering she doesn't drive farther than a half mile from home." Arms tightly folded, Olivia said, "And anyway, you've got some nerve implying---"
"Whoa. Calm down," he said, sloshing through the water with Flynn in his arms. "The last thing I wanted was to activate your considerable temper." Out of the tub, he wrapped Flynn in a giraffe towel, pulling over his head a hood that sported fuzzy horns and ears. Flynn looked beyond adorable, making it impossible for Olivia to maintain her sour mood. "I'm sure Flynn loves his school, but even if he keeps with that during the day, we're going to need someone reliable for times when we have business dinners or if we're both traveling. So? Nanny? I took the liberty of having my secretary contact several agencies. If you'll agree, we'll start interviewing tomorrow."
He stood shirtless in tropical-green swim trunks, dripping water all over the bathroom floor. Olivia should've handed him a towel, but all she could do was stare. She felt a little breathless. As if the room were running low on air.
"You okay, Liv?" He carefully dried between all of Flynn's toes. "You look pale."
"I'm good." But your chest is more in the realm of amazing!
"Mind taking this guy for a minute while I dry off?" Tag passed Flynn to Olivia, in the process rubbing his forearms against hers. His coarse hair against her smooth skin shot an erotic jolt through her. One that was as unwelcome as it had been unexpected.
Wordlessly she took their son, averting her gaze while Tag toweled dry.
"What do you say we nuke some popcorn and watch a movie after we get this guy to bed?"
"O-okay," she said, even though she would rather have retired to the peace of her room. What was wrong with her? Could Steph's suspicions be true? Ridiculous. No way was she crushing on Flynn's father. So the more she was around him, the more she was finding him to be a bona fide hunk. Big whoop. Great-looking guys were a dime a dozen, and since she'd already been with one and he'd broken her heart, she wasn't interested. Holding Flynn extra close, she said, "On second thought, I should probably finish unpacking."
"You've got the rest of our lives to unpack. Tonight let's play."
Together they diapered and dressed Flynn in fuzzy pj's. Tag had just about gotten the knack of not getting his fingers caught in the sticky tabs, which Olivia took as a sign of progress. With their son thoroughly tucked in and kissed and fussed over, they both changed out of their swimsuits in favor of comfy sweats and then went downstairs, baby monitor in hand.
Despite the enormity of Tag's home, the warm, burnt-orange of the walls and floors combined with expensive but comfortable furniture gave the house an overall cozy feel. The kitchen was every home chef's dream, with two sinks, two dishwashers and a six-burner stainless steel stove complete with a custom copper vent hood. Granite countertops, a center island and tile backsplashes designed to look like the walls of an archaeologist's treasure-rich dig blended seamlessly with glowing walnut cabinetry and the floral upholstery of the adjoining living area's sofa and love seat. Above a towering stone fireplace was yet another portrait of Maria---this one of her in a full-skirted yellow sundress, twirling with her long dark hair streaming and her face tipped toward the sun.
Tag had opened the door to a walk-in pantry, and now stood inside. "I know there's microwave popcorn in here somewhere."
Olivia didn't answer.
Tag's former wife's touches were everywhere. Glorious silk floral arrangements that looked so real Olivia could practically smell them. Persian rugs and quirky lamps combined with crystal chandeliers. Silver-framed photos tucked amongst hundreds of books on built-in walnut shelves.
Maria and Tag skiing.
Maria and Tag hiking.
Maria and Tag smiling, arm in arm, standing before a breathtaking view of Rome.
"Aren't those great?" Tag asked, stepping up behind her while the popcorn popped merrily in the built-in microwave. "Remind me some time to show you our pics of Bora Bora. The water was so clear, you could sit on the balcony with a mai tai and still feel like you were snorkeling."
"Mmm."
"What do you want to drink?" Tag asked, yanking open the stainless steel fridge. "Although, now that you live here, feel free to start helping yourself."
Was that a hint?
"Olivia?" he prodded. "Drink?"
"Have any chilled merlot?"
While shaking the popcorn from a bag into a bowl, he said, "Through that door, and to the left, there's a butler's pantry. Check the wine cooler. Who knows what's in there. Maria was the civilized one. I've always been more of a beer drinker."
In other words, just as Olivia now resided in a dead woman's house, she would also be drinking her wine. "No, thanks. I'll, ah, just have water."
"Sure?"
She nodded.
With a beer and a bottled water tucked under his arm and the popcorn bowl in hand, Tag led the way to a back staircase that led down rather than up. "Wait until you see the media room. If I had to spend the rest of my life somewhere, this room would work."
The wink-and-grin combo he shot over his right shoulder flip-flopped her stomach.
Which made her all the more uneasy.
What was she doing here? Squeezing the baby monitor for all she was worth, she followed Tag into a gamers' paradise. Pool table, wet bar, wall-mounted flat panel TV, burgundy-leather sectional and three vintage seventies pinball machines. Beyond sliding glass doors was a sunken grotto of sorts with a rock retaining wall drizzled in ivy, plus a steaming hot tub and plenty of patio seating.
"This way," he said, gesturing toward a faux theater front complete with red velvet ropes and a movie marquee featuring a vintage Gone with the Wind poster. After he flipped a light switch, they passed through an arch and into a room with a dozen deeply cushioned recliners set on three graduated risers. The screen at the front of the room was as big as Tag's Hummer. "Isn't it awesome? Maria and I must've gone to a hundred stores looking for just the right seating." Gesturing to a wall of built-in shelves holding hundreds of DVDs, he said, "You pick."
Staring at the baby monitor, Olivia wasn't sure what to say. She didn't want to watch a movie. She wanted to throw herself across her new bed and cry. "I think I'll pass."
Tag wrinkled his forehead. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to watch something? I made popcorn."
"I know, but..."
"Okay." He perched on the arm of a recliner. "Out with it. What's got you in such a funk?"
"Nothing," she lied, turning to leave the room.
He was faster, reaching out to snare her arm. Her black T-shirt left her arms bare, and his fingertips burned an impression. "I've never seen this side of you. All pouty."
"Pouty?" She tried jerking free, but he held firm. "I scowl and rage and fume, but I never pout."
Releasing her arm to take hold of her hand, he said, "Something's obviously on your mind. At the resort you had no trouble letting me have it. What's changed? What did I do to tick you off?"
Deep-down gut truth? Did she dare tell him? Were her worries even valid, or was she acting more childish than their son?
"Please, Liv." Giving her hand a squeeze, he said, "Don't shut me out."
She forced a deep breath, drawing strength from his touch. "All right. At the resort---you, me and Flynn---we felt like three amigos. Here, with every other word out of your mouth being something about Maria, I feel like an intruder. Like I'm on the outside of what was supposed to have been the launch of our new family."
He said nothing. Other than the muscle tic in his jaw, he was stone still. Had her admission angered him?
"I'm sorry, Tag. I thought this---living together---was the perfect solution to sharing Flynn, but..."
"It is." Stroking the top of her hand with his thumb, he said, "I'm sorry if I in any way made you feel unwelcome." Though his delivery was stiff, the meaning behind it shone in his glistening eyes. "This house was the culmination of many hours Maria and I spent planning. If I've mentioned her an inordinate amount, it's only because as proud as I am of this place, it was a group project. I want to give credit where credit is due."
A knot in her throat, Olivia nodded.
"Flynn---you. Both of you I've already grown proud of. Please be patient with me, okay?"
"Of course." The more he stroked her hand, the more he unwittingly hypnotized her. Calm spread through her, plus the certainty that whatever madness had driven her to move in with this man she hardly knew, it was right. This was only her first night in the house. If it was awkward for her, think how Tag must be feeling. As much as he loved Maria, he must never have planned for another woman to live in this home.
"You're quiet again," he said, the corners of his lips rising in a half grin. "I've learned to take this as a bad sign."
"I'm good." She forced a smile. "I just need you to be patient with me, too, okay? This is a huge change in my life, and---"
"I get it." Pulling her toward him, he pressed the softest of kisses to her forehead. "Trust me. You, me and Flynn---we're going to be awesome."
THE NEXT MORNING Tag called Alice and asked her to cancel all his appointments. The nanny agency he'd contacted the previous afternoon had promised a full array of prospects scheduled to begin arriving at nine.
In the meantime, as a further apology to Olivia for having spoiled her welcome to his home, Tag had already been to the neighborhood grocery, and the kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon, Olivia's special tea and Pillsbury cherry turnovers that had been like a doughy puzzle to assemble. Would his peace offering get him out of the proverbial doghouse? He sure as hell hoped so, because Olivia was much more fun when she wasn't mad at him.
Fifteen minutes later he'd unearthed a silver serving tray from the butler's pantry, washed off the dust and assembled Olivia's meal.
He took the stairs two at a time. Since there was no sound coming from her room, he assumed she and Flynn were still asleep. Balancing the tray in one hand, he quietly opened the door with his other.
"Tag!"
Olivia's screech caught him so off guard that he damn near dumped her breakfast. "Lord, woman," he said, setting the tray on the foot of her bed. "You trying to do me in?"
"Did it ever occur to you to knock?" Already in a white T-shirt, she tugged at green sweat-suit bottoms, but not fast enough to prevent him from getting an eyeful. Her silver thong wasn't remotely maternal, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried thinking of her as being nothing more than his son's mother, in reality, Olivia was starting to be much more.
"Oh." Heat rose in his face. He'd tried the gentleman thing by averting his gaze, but the image of her sweetly rounded derriere had been seared into his brain. "I, ah, made you breakfast in bed, but it looks like you're already up, huh?"
Grinning and shaking her head, she said, "You sound like a fourth grader who accidentally walked into the girls' bathroom. It's all right, Tag. Living together like we do, a situation like this was bound to happen."
"Yeah, but..." And since he didn't have much else to say other than the fact that he felt like a fourth grader, he laughed. Damn, but she'd looked hot without pants. "Okay, so you got me. Anyway, when you're ready, here's something to eat."
"Thanks. It smells delicious."
"As opposed to the establishments you pick out," he teased, "I go first class."
"Ha-ha." Gazing down at Flynn in his crib, smoothing his wild hair, she said, "Rolling Rock wasn't that bad."
"You didn't eat the meat loaf." Though the banter was lighthearted, Tag had the strangest pang in his chest. An odd craving had begun right around the time he'd seen Liv smile. Yes, her body was smoking hot, but beyond that, he was growing perilously attracted to every part of her. Not good. He wasn't in the market for a fling.
She scooped Flynn into her arms, careful not to upend the breakfast tray, and sat at the head of the bed. "Before I eat, this guy needs to be fed."
Looking away, he asked, "Want me to leave?"
"Actually, it's nice having company. During my breast-feeding classes, all the videos showed the attentive husband hovering, ready to grant his wife's every need. Going through all of this on my own has been bittersweet."
"I can imagine. There are a lot of firsts I would have liked to share. Was your delivery tough?"
"Indescribable." Her expression clouded. "After fifteen hours of labor, I had an emergency C-section. I had a friend with me, but even after Flynn was born, it took a while to feel up to my normal speed."
Longing washed through him. Flynn was his child. Tag would've liked to have been there for Liv. He sat hard on one of a pair of floral upholstered wing chairs.
"Now that this angel's here, though, I'd go through it again in a heartbeat."
With the only sound breaking the room's heavy silence being his son's occasional soft suckle, Tag asked, "Do you ever feel resentment toward me?"
"Initially," she admitted, "when I thought you were out to take Flynn from me."
"I get that." He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm talking about my not being there during your pregnancy. It had to be tough. Going it alone."
She looked down, stroking Flynn's cheek. "It was. But I made the choice. I knew from the start that was the way it had to be."
"Yes, but does it anger you that it didn't have to be? I mean, all along I've been right here, Liv. Do you ever wish that quack lab would've let us in on this snafu in your first trimester?"
"As I've already explained, Tag, I didn't want a man in my life. That's why I opted for artificial insemination. You're acting as if we were a couple and you feel guilty that you couldn't be with me, but you and I both know that's just not how it was."
True. So why now was a part of him wishing that was how it could have been?
TAG AND OLIVIA SHARED the living-room sofa.
Part-time nanny candidate number six had centered herself on the love seat. Her nose ring featured a dangling pink Hello Kitty charm. Otherwise, she was all business in a formfitting black business suit and red tie that matched the red streak in her long, otherwise black hair.
Leaning in close to Olivia, Tag whispered, "Tell me again why your Mrs. Troyer won't just move in with us?"
"Could you at least try behaving?" Olivia elbowed Tag hard to his ribs. Clearing her throat, she asked nineteen-year-old Tabitha, "What makes you qualified for this job?"
"I graduated a year early from high school with honors, and am currently a junior in premed at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. I eventually plan to specialize in pediatrics, but until then I like to spend as much time as possible with toddlers and infants. I'm the recipient of numerous prestigious scholarships, a member of Mensa and have excellent references---including one from the chief of staff at St. Vincent hospital."
Wow. Olivia elbowed Tag again, this time for a happy reason. "Tabitha, thank you so much for coming. Please leave your reference sheet, and I have a feeling we'll be calling you soon."
"I'll look forward to hearing from you," the girl said, rising and bobbing her head with a quirky nod.
After showing the teen to the door, Olivia returned to find Tag in the kitchen eating a fudgsicle. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself." With a playful poke to his stomach, she said, "Can you believe our luck? She's perfect."
"You're kidding, right?" The speck of fudge on his chin made him look younger than their nanny candidate.
"What's the problem? She's flawless."
"She's pierced!"
"And you obviously judge books by their covers, but---"
"Don't go there," he said, slamming his fudge wrapper in the undercounter trash. "I will not have my son watched by a punk rocker."
"News flash---Flynn is our son, and assuming Tabitha's references check out, I can't imagine finding anyone more suitable."
Deep into her personal space, he clamped his hand to her forehead.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, stepping a few feet back.
"Checking you for fever."
"Now you're just being insulting." Turning her back on him, she returned to the living room, where she'd left the baby monitor on the coffee table.
"Oh," he said, close on her heels, "and your cracks about my character-assessment skills---or lack thereof---aren't the least bit offensive?"
Hands on her hips, Olivia raised her chin. "Not if they happen to be true."
"Listen up, Ms. Punk Rocker Lover, the day I---"
Flynn's wail made it clear that he didn't care who was watching him, just as long as they changed his diaper ASAP.
Much to Olivia's dismay, Tag beat her up the stairs and to their son's crib. "What's the problem, big guy?"
The infant cried all the harder.
Tag hefted Flynn from his crib, only to blanch. "Whew. Smells like you dropped a stinky egg."
Olivia frowned.
"What?" Tag asked, already headed for the changing table. "You mean to tell me you don't mind dye-haired, pierced sitters, but potty humor's unacceptable?"
"You're totally missing my point." While Tag unsnapped Flynn's pale blue shirt, Olivia took a diaper from the stack on the table's middle shelf. "What kind of message would we be sending if we teach our son to judge people by the way they look?"
"That wasn't any old ordinary look," Tag said, expertly removing Flynn's diaper. In the past few days he'd practiced. "But I see where you're coming from."
"So you'll agree to at least give Tabitha a try?" Olivia handed Tag a warmed wipe.
"If you'll agree to let my secretary check the girl's references. Alice knows everyone in town. If the kid's not on the up-and-up, she'll sniff it out."
"Agreed," Olivia said, wrapping the old diaper and putting it in the trash. "But when Tabitha does turn out to have a flawless background, I want a formal apology."
Tag's only answer was a grunt.
"Does it taste okay?" Olivia asked Tag Sunday afternoon, holding out a spoonful of baked beans. His parents, along with her aunt and uncle, were due any minute for supper. Though Easter was still nearly a month away, she'd baked a ham and Tag had helped her make all the trimmings. Candied yams, homemade potato salad and strawberry shortcake for dessert.
"Delicious," Tag said, pinching Flynn's bare toes.
The baby sat in his high chair in the midst of all the cooking mayhem.
When he thought she wasn't looking, Tag fished out a mini-serving of sauce for Flynn. He gummed and giggled and kicked.
"I saw that," Olivia said, also seeing the goopy brown mess all over her son's chin.
"He likes your cooking."
Scowling, she said, "What he likes is the sugar, which, as you well know, he's not supposed to have."
"Who appointed you the health police?"
"Flynn's birth certificate," she said as she added diced celery to the potato salad. "Now, while I finish setting the table, would you mind dressing Flynn in something presentable?"
"What's wrong with him? He's adorable." The baby wore jeans and a red polo, but he didn't have shoes or socks on and his hair and face were a mess.
"For an occasion like this, he needs to be beyond adorable."
"Like me?" Tag asked, stepping up from behind her to kiss her cheek. Though she needed to be putting flowers on the table and double-checking the glaze on the ham, she instead put her hand to her cheek.
"W-what was that for?"
"I'm sorry," he said, reddening and then sharply looking away. "I wasn't thinking. More than you know, I appreciate you putting on such a nice spread for my folks." Tag scooped Flynn from his high chair. "Anything special in mind for our little heartbreaker to wear? Or do you just want me to clean him up?"
With her mind still foggy from Tag's kiss, she could hardly remember her name, let alone the specifics of Flynn's wardrobe. "Um, surprise me."
"Will do." Taking Flynn's arm, he helped the baby salute. The move was corny, ridiculous and so cute Olivia felt as if her heart were caught in her throat.
"THERE'S MY CUPCAKE," Olivia's aunt Caroline crooned, getting all up in Flynn's face. Tag couldn't tell whether their son was happy about this or needed to burp. For his mission to make the baby more presentable, Tag had found railroad-striped overalls that he'd put over Flynn's red shirt. He added the red high-top sneakers Liv had told him about, gave his face a quick scrub and, voilà, his son was a masterpiece.
If only the same could be said for the pudding in Tag's brain. Kissing Liv had been an impulse he hadn't thought through. One thing was for sure, though---it wouldn't happen again.
They sat in the living room, sharing embarrassing childhood stories and an after-dinner round of tea and coffee. Olivia's meal had been a great success. All present raved about her cooking skills.
"He's not a cupcake," Uncle Brian complained. "A manly man like him is more like a truck."
"I agree," Tag said. "He's getting to an age where we need to lay off the girlie stuff."
While Olivia's aunt and uncle sorted out nicknames, Tag's mother pulled him aside.
"He truly is beautiful," she said, standing next to the baby grand piano, tears glistening in her eyes. "I can't believe we've already missed so much of his life."
"I know," Tag said, trying not to sneeze from the heavy scent of the lilies that Olivia had placed in vases all over the house, "but no more. Olivia and I are committed to raising him together."
His mother clapped. "Then you are getting married. Oh, your father will be thrilled. Me, too."
Brow furrowed, Tag asked, "How can you infer marriage out of a simple commitment to our son?"
"What else would you have meant?" His mom leaned over to sniff the flower arrangement on the piano. Gold from a lily's stamen brushed onto her nose.
"Mom," he said, gesturing to the streak, "you've got something---"
"Don't try changing the subject, Taggart. When can I take your future bride out to pick china? And I'll need to reserve space at the country club for the reception."
Loosening the tie that was suddenly choking the life out of him, Tag said in a low tone, "You know how I feel about this. There isn't going to be a wedding. Ever."
"Tag, it's been three years since Maria's death. She would want you to go on. Especially with the mother of your son. No one was a bigger fan of family than your wife, and it would break her heart that you're not even giving Olivia a chance."
"Just stop, okay?" Sighing, he stared out the window at the river churning at the bluff's base. It was raining and the rivulets running down the windows marred the usual expansive view. "Olivia feels the same as I do. That what we share is a love for our son. Nothing more."
"Then she's lying." Tag's mom put her hand on his navy suit's lapel, swiping at invisible lint. "At the table, when you said grace with Flynn in your arms, your father and I saw the look of adoration in her eyes. I understand you're still hurting over Maria, but honey, you owe it not only to yourself, but your son, to at least explore a genuine relationship with Olivia."
Aggravated by his parents' interference in his life---even if they meant well---Tag clenched his teeth to keep from saying something he'd regret.
"Great party," Tag's father said, strolling up with a bowl of potato salad in hand.
"Charles, you just finished dinner."
"And?" He raised his bushy eyebrows.
Tag's mother shook her head.
Tag was so annoyed by her buttinsky questions that he didn't even tell her she still had lily pollen all over her nose.
"I'M EXHAUSTED," Liv declared once they'd made their goodbyes to their guests.
Tag watched as she kicked off her brown leather sandals and collapsed on the living-room sofa. The flowery dress she wore was a pretty change from her usual staid business attire. She'd worn her auburn hair up in a formal knot, but she now released it, sending it tumbling about her freckled chest.
Flynn had long since crashed in the playpen they'd set up in a quiet corner of the room.
Leaning her head back, Liv closed her eyes, exposing the elegant column of her throat. She was a stunning woman. The polar opposite of Maria's dark, petite beauty. His mother's assessment of Liv's hidden feelings for him had caught him off guard. In the short time they'd been together, he'd developed a great affection for her. But it was based upon nothing more than their mutual love of Flynn.
"Me, too," he said, hovering with his hands in his pockets on the other side of the room.
"Huh?" She cocked one eye open.
"You said you were tired?" he reminded her. "I'm agreeing."
She laughed. "You must be sleepy, since you waited like five minutes to even reply."
"It hasn't been anywhere near five minutes," he argued.
"You're horrible with time," she said. "So how would you even know?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He joined her on the sofa. When she shifted to allow him extra room, he snagged her ankles, pulling her feet onto his lap for a rub.
"That feels heavenly," she said with a contented groan. "But back to the subject---you're chronically late."
"Am not," he protested, making sure to press extra deep on her arches because she'd complained of them giving her trouble when she stood in heels all day in court.
"When we were at Rolling Rock, you said you'd be right over to pick us up from our cabin. It took you seven minutes."
He rolled his eyes.
"And when we showed up with all of our boxes at your house, and you'd called my cell to tell me you'd be right home to let me in, how long did it actually take?" Her grin showed lots of teeth and the dimples that came out only when she was especially relaxed.
"Hey, the only reason I was late was because I stopped to get your favorite flavor of ice cream."
"Oops." She at least had the good grace to blush.
Moving his massage to her ankles, and then silky calves, he said, "That's right. Score one for me, and minus ten for you."
"That doesn't even make sense." She wrinkled her nose.
"That's the beauty of it," he said with a wink, skimming his hand along her calf. Her skin felt so good. Good enough to turn his platonic thank-you massage into something neither would want. Gently moving her legs while easing off the sofa, he continued, "It effectively changed the subject without you even realizing what happened."
"You're nuts."
"Probably," he admitted, "but you're stuck with me, so what're you going to do?"
LYING IN BED THAT NIGHT, Flynn softly snoring in his crib, the central heating humming, Olivia couldn't keep from analyzing Tag's seemingly carefree statement. For all practical purposes, she was stuck with him. But interestingly enough, far from feeling stuck, the more time they spent together, the more fun she had.
Now that she'd gotten used to it, the rambling house was amazing. The kitchen inspiring. The movie room entertaining. The enormous tub she'd once poked fun at was beyond belief relaxing. Olivia had even gotten used to Maria's ghost being everywhere she looked.
At one point in the evening, Tag's mother had drawn him aside. The look on his face while she'd been talking had been dark. After everyone had left, Olivia wanted to ask what had gotten him so riled up, but his massage and their playful banter had been so nice that she hadn't wanted it to stop.
"Knock, knock."
"Tag," she said, hand to her pounding heart. "Jeez, you are always scaring the fool out of me."
"Sorry. Can I come in?" Though she slept with her door open, Tag stood at the room's threshold, dressed in nothing but red pj bottoms, his bare chest illuminated by the light of a nearly full moon.
"O-of course," she said, pushing her no doubt wild hair over her shoulders.
"Leave it," Tag said, crawling into bed beside her. The king-size mattress meant there was plenty of extra space. He wasn't anywhere near touching her, yet she fought the craziest urge to slide close to him, resting her head on his chest, snuggling for warmth. "Your hair looks pretty down."
"Oh." He'd developed a preference for her wearing it a certain way?
"Dammit, Liv," he said, leaning against the headboard with his hands linked behind his head. "I'm not getting any sleep over something my mom nagged me about."
How interesting that one of the very things keeping her awake was also affecting him.
"Making a long story short, she and Dad apparently saw you put some extra oomph behind your smile, and they're now convinced you're pining for me, and that we should get married right away."
"W-what?" Olivia pushed herself upright in the bed.
"It's the craziest damned thing you've ever heard, right?" Lowering his hands, he repositioned onto his side, stroking her forearm. In the process, he unwittingly made heat streak through her entire body. "I explained to her that we have a mutually beneficial arrangement that doesn't require a legal commitment, but she wasn't having it."
Olivia laughed.
Tag barked, "I fail to see anything funny about this."
"Ironic would probably be the better word, since when my aunt and I were whipping cream for dessert she gave me the shacking-up lecture."
"She actually accused you of shacking up?" Rolling even closer, he balled a pillow under his head.
"Not in those exact words, but her meaning was clear enough."
"Yeah." Reaching out, he tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ear. Then he leaned closer and closer until his lips had nowhere else to go but against hers. His kiss shot silvery warmth through her, feeling crazy good.
Groaning, she pressed against him, yearning for more.
Unfortunately Tag pulled away. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen. I just..." His expression was unreadable. As if instead of enjoying their intimate moment, he was in pain.
"Tag...it's okay."
Ignoring her reassurance, he shifted a good two feet away before clearing his throat. "I've, ah, been meaning to tell you this for the longest time, but I guess pride has stopped me."
"That doesn't sound good." Sitting up, she asked, "Should I be worried?"
He snorted. "More like ecstatic. As much as it pains me to admit, that sitter we interviewed?"
"Wait---let me guess. Tabitha's references all turned out impeccable?"
Judging by his scowl, yes. "That still doesn't mean we should hire her. There are those piercings to consider."
She laughed. "I guess now wouldn't be the time to tell you I've been considering a belly button ring?"
Making a sexy rumble deep in his throat, he raised her shirt, skimming his fingers along the tender rise of her stomach. For a moment her arousal was so intense, she held her breath, but once she regained her sanity, she asked, "Tag?"
"Uh-huh?"
Turning toward him, she whispered, "If our kissing apparently bothered you, why do you keep touching me?"
"Honestly? I don't know." With the backs of his fingers he stroked her cheek. "Want me to stop?"
"Yes." No.
When he chastely covered her hand with his, she closed her stinging eyes, losing herself in the intimate sensation. It had been years since anyone had touched her in a man-woman way. In her head, she got the fact that Tag was only trying to be friendly, but her emotions felt strapped to a runaway train.
"What're we going to do?" He took her hand and traced the fine lines on her palm.
"About what?"
"Our families?" Sighing, he said, "My brothers and sister are chomping at the bit to meet you and Flynn. Likewise, so are all of the folks I work with."
"My circle's curious about you." The more he stroked, the more she felt near purring. "They don't understand how we went from being bitter enemies to housemates. They think I've gone off the deep end."
"Have you?" Moonlight shone off his strong, white-toothed grin.
She tried swatting his chest, but he captured her hand, leaning still closer. Beneath her palm, his heart beat as erratically as hers.
"What are we doing?" she asked, her voice a breathless half version of her normal self.
"Wish I had an answer. All I know is that life stops hurting when I'm around you."
His words were a perfect encapsulation of what she'd wanted to say. For so long she'd done everything on her own, and had managed just fine. Managed. Only just now did she get the vast difference between getting along and thriving. But she'd already put her trust in a man, and look where that had left her. Yes, Tag was nothing like Phil, and they did share Flynn, but that didn't mean their road couldn't be filled with potholes.
"Say something," he requested.
"I can't." It hurt too badly---the knowledge that whether she wanted to or not, her heart could be setting her up for another fall.
"Why?"
Inching still closer to him, she said, "I'm tired. Do we have to have this conversation tonight?"
"I guess not. But if not now, when?"
"I have an opening next week, Tuesday." She flipped over, molding her backside to him, taking his hand and cupping it to her tummy. His radiant heat scorched her in a wonderful way. When she'd been pregnant, how many nights had she lain dreaming of someone holding her this way? Protecting her? Making her feel that no matter what life threw at her, everything would be okay? On the outside she portrayed the tough lady lawyer, but on the inside she was tired of being strong. "Want me to pencil you in?"
"WHAT'S GOT YOU in such a good mood?" Alice asked while Tag whistled his way into his office a week later on a Monday morning.
"High on life," he said, tossing his briefcase on the floor beside his desk. "What've you got for me?"
"A video conference, eighteen contracts to go over, lunch with your brothers and signing payroll checks."
"Great." He sat in his comfy leather chair, snapping open the Wall Street Journal Alice laid out for him every morning. "Do I have a few minutes for a quick personal call?"
"I suppose," she said. "But I need you in the conference room no later than nine-fifteen."
"Will do," he said, already reaching for the phone.
With Alice out of the room, he punched in Liv's cell. "Good morning," he said when she answered on the second ring. "You ever find the munchkin's favorite teething hippo?"
"Yes, sir," she said, sounding out of breath. "Under the breakfast-nook table. He must've pitched it along with his teething cookies."
"Where are you?" he asked, trying to suppress a mental image of one of her short, all-business skirts riding up to expose her thighs.
"On my way into the courthouse. I've got a pretrial meeting in fifteen minutes." In the background was the grumble of a passing truck.
"Is he a good-looking client?" he teased.
"Point of fact, he's a she."
"Oh. Is she hot?"
Liv laughed. "You're incorrigible. And a flirt."
After a long pause he said, "Sorry. I thought we were just fooling around."
"We are, but I'm not your girlfriend, Tag. At least, I'm not supposed to be."
"Right. I'm bad."
"True. Which is why I'm hanging up."
"Not yet." Playing with the desktop pool game a coworker had given him for his last birthday, he asked, "Want to give Tabitha a try tonight and go out for grown-up dinner?"
"Sounds highly tempting. Mind if I give you an answer after I see how the day pans out?"
"Not at all. I'll tentatively add you to my schedule."
"I'm honored," she teased.
"You should be," he teased right back. "Did Flynn ever get over his morning grumpies?"
"Right after he fell into the arms of his love, Mrs. Nelson."
"Ah, the infamous Mrs. Nelson." Chuckling over his son's adoration of the buxom blonde at his day care, Tag said, "Wish I'd had more teachers like her."
"On that note," Liv said with a laughing tone, "I really am hanging up."
When she did just that, Tag smiled all the more.
Liv's sense of humor was one of his favorite things about her. Of course, he also liked her hair. Especially at night when she left it down.
Since that one time he'd fallen asleep in Liv's bed, Tag had been careful not to put himself in that kind of inappropriate situation again. He and Liv were friends. The last thing he wanted was to send out signals they were more.
Now, most nights after Flynn had settled off to sleep, Tag and Liv retreated to the family room adjacent to the kitchen. They talked about everything from sports and movies and house maintenance to what their hopes and aspirations were for their son's life.
Tag wanted him to take over the family oil business.
Liv thought that was a fine goal, but that he first needed a top-notch education.
Tag agreed.
In fact, lately they seemed to agree on lots of things. The only thing troubling him about their relationship was the nagging fact that the more he was around her, the more dependent upon her he grew. Whether it was seeking her opinion on the color of his morning tie or having the lawn man plant purple pansies, white or a mix of both, he found himself searching for reasons to be with her.
As for your compulsion to also be touching her?
What could he say? He'd always been a hugger.
That lone, hot kiss was hardly your garden-variety hug.
True, but what harm did it do for him to be close to his son's mother? Kids sensed that sort of thing, didn't they? Tension between their parents.
So, see? Tag wasn't in the habit of sitting extra close to Liv for his own benefit, but that of his son. It was only natural for friends to be near each other, but on his honor, no more kissing. Tag wasn't about to take his attraction a step further.
"What's that smile about?" Dane asked Olivia as she closed her flip phone in the courthouse lobby.
How did she explain something she didn't even understand? "Tag's always horsing around."
"He makes you laugh?" Dane held open the door to the snack bar where they purchased morning coffee when they were running too late to get real coffee from Morgan's.
"All the time," she said, standing at the end of a four-deep line. "He's like a ten-year-old in a grown man's body."
"Gabrielle says you two are inseparable."
"I wouldn't go that far." She moved up in line. "But in caring for Flynn, we understandably spend a lot of time with each other."
Expression somber, he nodded.
"What's that look mean?"
"Just that my wife's worried about you, and you know how she gets when she's in worrywart mode." Fishing a five from his wallet, he said, "Call her, okay? She says she hasn't heard from you in forever."
"More like two days," Olivia said with a shake of her head. "But as soon as I get a break, I'll check in."
"Thanks," Dane said, planting a brotherly kiss to the crown of her head. "That's all I ask."
Hours later, after examining witnesses on a heartbreaking domestic abuse case in which the wife claimed self-defense and the district attorney claimed murder, Olivia picked up Flynn from school, then made the twenty-five-minute drive home.
Home.
Funny how that used to mean the house she was still paying the mortgage on, but now it had taken on an entirely new connotation.
Pressing the automatic garage-door opener, she'd never been happier to see Tag's SUV on his side of the garage. Better yet, once she turned off her engine, he strolled out of the house's mudroom door with a glass of white wine in hand. "You're late. I figured you might need this."
"Bless you," she said, taking the glass while he headed around to the car's passenger side to scoop Flynn from his safety seat.
"Hey, little man," Tag crooned. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"
Flynn gurgled with an excited buck.
Beaming, Tag said, "I'll take that as a yes." To Olivia he asked, "Want me to get your purse and briefcase?"
"Leave 'em." In the house, she kicked off her heels and said, "Days like this make me crave an early retirement."
"Would I be safe in assuming Tabitha will have the night off?"
Her answer was to close her eyes and sigh.
"Want to tell me about it?" When Tag closed the door, she felt as if he'd also shut out the weight of the world. As if here, in their own universe, nothing could bring them down. "I made that cream cheese crab dip you like."
"Can I eat it while you rub my feet?"
"Demanding wench, aren't you?" Snatching her up in a hug, he made a growling noise while nuzzling her neck.
Sandwiched between them, Flynn gurgled and cooed.
AFTER A SIMPLE DINNER of grilled chicken and asparagus, then sharing Flynn's bath time and putting him in his crib, Tag led Liv out to the hot tub, baby monitor in hand. It had been a beautiful day with temperatures in the high seventies, but now it was chilly, making the 102-degree water feel perfect.
"This is nice," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I concur." He slipped his arm around her, loving the feel of her pliant curves against his hard planes. "So? Out with it. What happened in court?"
"It was awful. I'm pretty sure it's a slam dunk for my team, but the crime-scene photos have the jury squirming. It floors me how the D.A. even had the nerve to bring this to trial. My client was so badly beaten her eyes were swollen closed. She had three broken ribs, a punctured lung and concussion. Her only means of defense was the pan of fried chicken cooking on the stove. She slung it at him, and happened to get lucky. The bastard went down. End of story."
"Holy crap." Rubbing her shoulders, he said, "I hate thinking of you immersed in that kind of violence all day."
"Me, too, but someone's got to do it. This poor woman has three kids. Think of Flynn being trapped in that kind of toxic environment."
Tag rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "That's an image I'd rather not imagine. Come here, you." He hefted her onto his lap, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I missed you today."
"I missed you, too," she said, toying with the dark curls on his chest. Her simple movement was causing problems beneath the bubbles.
Trying not to think about how attractive she was, he said, "I had lunch with my brothers."
"Oh?" She wriggled to change positions, in the process making her full breasts nearly burst from her bikini top. New? For his benefit?
He changed positions accordingly. "They want to meet you. Think it would be okay if we had their families and my sister's over for barbecue Saturday afternoon?"
"Sure. Sounds fun. How about I ask my crew over, too? Dane hit me up in the courthouse lobby today about how worried my friend Gabby is about me."
"Why?"
"I used to hang out with the girls all the time, but now I'm always with you."
"That's because I'm s-o-o-o good-looking. How could you resist?"
That comment earned him a swat.
"Watch it," he complained, circling her wrists.
"You need to watch your sass." She playfully kissed his nose.
He growled---it took every ounce of willpower he had not to grab her and kiss her senseless.
"I'll bet you were a hellion in high school."
"You know it."
"And college?" She kissed his throat.
"Worse." When she raised her face level with his, her breath smelled so good his insides felt as if they were on fire.
For the longest time he stared into her eyes. "What have you done to me?"
"Nothing more than you have me." Leaner closer, closer, she let her lips hover above his, mingling their exhalations. "Do you want this?"
"Yeah," he said in a guttural voice he didn't even recognize as his own. "Hell, yeah." Pressing his lips to hers, he felt as if he were melting. And falling. Emerging from a long, dark tunnel into her light.
Deeper and deeper he kissed.
Further and further he fell.
Easing his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, he pressed her closer still, loving her soft groans.
Off came her top, and her breasts mounded against him.
Shifting positions, she straddled his lap, leaving no mystery as to where this was heading. Both were breathing heavily and the water's heat combined with his own internal fire, leaving him dazed and confused and hard with wanting.
On autopilot, he shimmied free of his swim trunks.
Losing her bikini bottom was no big issue.
He was too hot, so with a swoosh of water he lifted her out of the hot tub to position her on the nearest cushioned lounge chair. The rock grotto was their own private paradise, complete with chirping crickets he could hardly hear above his racing pulse.
He held off as long as he could, until her nails pressed into his back and she cried out with pleasure. His release hit like a rogue wave, slamming him with emotion he wasn't equipped to handle.
Her arms around his neck, she was still close enough for him to feel her pounding heart.
She wasn't alone. His heart felt ready to burst. Not good, considering his vow to keep their relationship platonic. What had he done? Gently he nudged her away. "I, um, guess we should check on Flynn."
"You all right?" Olivia asked in the awkward silence after they'd both found their bathing suits and wrapped themselves in towels taken from an outside storage cabinet.
"Sure." He held open the game-room door for her to step inside. Understandably, it was a little chilly for kissing and cuddling outside, she thought, but would it be too much to ask after having just made love for him to at least speak in more than one-syllable sentences?
"Tired?"
"Yep." He picked up the baby monitor and turned off the downstairs lights. "Ready for bed?"
On the still brightly lit stairs she said, "You're mad because you just cheated on Maria, aren't you?"
"You're being ridiculous." He tried brushing past her, but she wasn't letting him get away that easily.
"Am I, Tag? Then why, when we just shared something amazing, are you now being such a jerk?"
Tilting his head back in obvious annoyance, he said, "We're dripping all over the carpet. And anyway, this isn't really something I want to talk about."
"Oh, that's just great. I still feel you inside me, but I don't deserve to know why you're now acting nuts?"
He shrugged and walked up the stairs.
Fury didn't begin to describe the feelings coursing through her. Why was Tag doing this? She wasn't a fool. He'd been just as into her as she was him. Their act had been what they'd both wanted.
She wanted to chase him, yelling her frustration. But knowing him as she did, all that would accomplish was shutting him down further.
At the top of the stairs she flicked off the light and went to her room.
She checked on Flynn and found him sleeping soundly.
In the shower she remembered that Tag had the baby monitor, so she hurried in case Flynn woke. He didn't, which almost disappointed her, since she could've used the distraction.
"LOOK," TAG SAID the next morning when Liv hadn't spoken a word to him through eating a bowl of cereal and a banana, "I'm sorry, okay?"
"You've got that right." She shot him a glare before pushing her chair back and putting her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and banana peel in the trash. Taking Flynn from his high chair, she left the kitchen.
Tag followed her up the stairs. "I was tired. I didn't know what I was doing. You were hot, and I was horny and bam---magic happened."
At the threshold to her room she whirled around and said, "Don't waste your breath. An explanation like that makes you sound like a street thug from a seventies John Travolta movie. You knew exactly what you were doing, Tag. You're a grown man. Accidents of this kind no longer happen."
Banging the heel of his fist against her bedroom door, he gritted his teeth. "All right, truth? Yes, being with you was freakin' amazing. It was also wrong. I know how bad it hurts to lose someone you love, and I'm never putting myself through that again. The closer we get---physically and emotionally---the more danger I'm in. I can't breathe, Liv. I have to have space."
"I don't mean to be cruel," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice calm for Flynn's benefit, "but just because Maria died, that hopefully doesn't mean my time's up tomorrow."
"Of course not. You know what I'm talking about. And anyway, didn't you tell me you wanted nothing to do with men? For God's sake, you were so firm in your conviction to avoid any romantic entanglement that you had yourself artificially inseminated. A pretty drastic step, don't you think?"
"News flash," she said in a hushed tone right in his face, "but Phil destroyed me. I didn't want to avoid men out of some perverse need to save memories, but to remind me that men are pigs and will only rip out my soul." She kissed Flynn. "Except for you, sweetie."
"So now I'm a pig because I don't want to risk losing another woman I could grow to love? I wouldn't survive it. Especially now that I've got Flynn to consider, I can't risk an emotional meltdown. It wouldn't be fair to him."
After swallowing hard, she asked, "What about me, Tag? What's fair to me? Your son's mother."
"The mother who told me she wants nothing to do with me." He turned away from her, resting his forehead against the wall. "That's the only reason you're here. Because you were safe. But then you turned out to be funny and you let your hair down and took my breath away when you smiled. What was I supposed to do with all of that? Last night was a mistake, Liv. I'm a man, and I fell in the face of temptation, but that's it. I'm so sorry, but we must never be together in that way again."
He glanced up to watch her green eyes well with tears.
She nodded, sniffling. "Of course. I understand. But you have to know that in the short time I've been with you, you've changed me. I've caught glimpses of what an awesome family you, me and Flynn could be---that is, if only you'd give us a chance."
"That's not fair," he said, hating that he was the cause of her tears. "You knew exactly where I stood going into this thing. You can't expect me to change midstream."
Laughing, crying, she said, "That's the stupid part. By your own admission, you already have changed. You're just too thickheaded to see it."
"I WAS AFRAID OF THIS," Stephanie said over lunch at Mong's on Tuesday, biting into a chicken egg roll. A soap opera was under way in the kitchen with much shouting and clattering of pots and pans. Every so often a waitress would come out and apologize for the noise.
Flynn was with his beloved Mrs. Nelson.
Relations between Olivia and Tag hadn't been merely strained, but nonexistent.
Continuing after chewing, Steph said, "I knew you were going to fall for the guy, and then bam---he was going to break your heart."
"You said no such thing," Gabby complained over the Chinese guzheng string tunes being pumped through speakers. "I was the one telling you that any romance that comes about this fast is trouble."
Adding more sugar to her iced tea, Olivia said, "You're both delusional, as I clearly remember each of you being excited by the prospect of me maybe finding romance. The weird part is we never even had an official date. Just that one night in a hot tub when we'd both had a little too much wine and got carried away."
"You can honestly say you had no romantic feelings for Tag before that night?"
"I wouldn't go that far." Olivia added lemon to her tea. Just thinking about all those times Tag had massaged her feet and calves raised heat in her cheeks.
"Ouch!" Steph complained, blotting a napkin to her eye. "Your lemon got me."
"Sorry. Anyway," Olivia continued, "I might've had some warm and fuzzies, but that's it."
"Uh-huh." Gabby rolled her eyes. "That's what I told myself about Dane, until one day we were making out half-naked in the hall."
"While you were pregnant?" Steph asked, freezing with a bite of sweet and sour pork midway to her mouth.
"Could we please focus on Olivia? Dane and I are old news."
Olivia said, "I'd just as soon focus on my fried wontons."
"Comfort food is all well and good," Steph pointed out, "but at a time like this, you also need a plan."
"For what? Tag and I have already decided to raise Flynn jointly. If I go back on that plan, it will mean losing my child fifty percent of his life. I'm not prepared to do that."
"You really think it could come to that?"
"What other solution is there? I mean, things were going so great between us, I really thought we had a chance at the whole happily-ever-after ending, but after Tag's meltdown, it's a no-brainer that we aren't meant to be."
"But you share a child," Gabby, the Pollyanna of the bunch, whined. "Can't you at least try working things out?"
"Like you did with Ben?" Olivia hated hitting her friend below the belt, but Ben was the biological father of Gabby's son, yet Dane was the man raising him. Families all around the world worked in unconventional ways. To stay with her son, Olivia was prepared to do whatever it took to mollify Tag---even if that meant convincing him that she'd never been attracted to him. Just tipsy on a great bottle of wine.
"That hurt," Gabby said, "but I guess I had it coming. The difference is that from what you've said, Tag's the total package."
Olivia nearly choked on a spoonful of hot and sour soup. "If by total you mean that Tag comes complete with the ghost of his dead wife, then, yeah, he's about as complete as it gets."
"Can we at least try being civil until after my brothers leave?" Tag asked, standing on the threshold to Liv's room. Since their fight, she rarely came out. As soon as she got home from work, she and Flynn did their thing and Tag did his. The tension was unbearable. But then again, so were the flashbacks of what had happened between them in the hot tub.
Not bothering to rise from her bed where she was stretched out, showing a picture book to Flynn, she said, "Why don't you take our son, show him off, and I'll stay up here. That way, I won't embarrass you."
Lips pressed tight, Tag counted to ten in his head. Lord help him, this woman would be the death of him. "You could never embarrass me, Liv. I know you must feel like everything's changed between us, but nothing has. I still think of you as one of my closest friends. More than anything, I want you to meet my brothers. They'll love you as much as I do."
"Love me?" She laughed.
"Why is that funny?"
"If you can't figure it out," she said, "I'm sure not going to tell you."
Trying to ignore the muscle ticking in his jaw, he asked, "Is that a dig about me not wanting to be with you? You know, in that way?"
"No, Tag. Just leave me alone, all right? You wanted us to lead separate lives, and now you've got it."
"That was never what I wanted. You're putting words in my mouth."
"Am I? Let's go over---"
The door chimes rang.
Tag stared at her. His son. The two of them were beautiful. And he missed them with a physical ache in his chest that lately seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Why couldn't she accept the fact that, as friends, they could have it all? They didn't need anything more than that.
She might not need it, but did she deserve it? All of him? Probably, but he'd already given himself to another woman, meaning he had nothing left to give.
"I have to get that," he said, hitching his thumb toward the stairs. "May I take Flynn?"
"Be my guest."
"I'd prefer it if you came with me. My brothers really want to meet you."
"I might be down in a while," she said, a cold edge to her normally warm voice. "There are things I have to do."
He wanted to ask what was more important than being introduced to his family, but the door chimes rang again. She was holding out Flynn but refusing to meet his stare, and the timing just didn't seem right.
ONCE TAG HAD LEFT with Flynn, Olivia closed her bedroom door and indulged in a good, hard cry.
She hadn't used to be the crying type, but the more time she spent in this home, the more that was starting to change. From downstairs rose the sounds and smells of an O'Malley family gathering in full swing. Cheers whenever the St. Louis Cardinals scored. The sweet smell of wood smoke from the smoker that Tag had started early that morning.
The thought of how differently their lives could be served as added torture.
When almost an hour later a knock sounded on her door, Olivia had nearly managed to drift off to sleep, but woke with a start.
"What do you want?" she called out to Tag.
The door opened, and in walked a petite, pretty version of Tag. With her big brown eyes, long dark hair and an easy smile it was eerie how much alike the two were. The woman carried Flynn.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said. "Tag told us you're under the weather. But I'm Tag's sister, Fiona, and I've been dying to meet the woman who dragged him out of mourning."
Olivia was so caught off guard by not only the woman's surprise appearance but her words that she sat up abruptly enough to bring on a headache. Clutching her forehead, she winced through the momentary pain.
"I've come at a bad time," the woman said. "Flynn needed a diaper change and Tag told me you wouldn't mind if I popped in to change it."
"Let me," Olivia said, out of bed and tidying her hair. Crossing the room, she reached out for her child. "Hey, sweetie. I missed you." And she had. The time without him had been short, though, compared to how often she'd lose him were she to move back into her own home.
"He's perfect," Tag's sister said, hovering behind Olivia while she tackled the diaper. "My husband, Craig, and I have naughty twin girls who are off on a Scouting trip. They're nine going on twenty-nine."
Olivia wasn't sure how to respond, so she flashed as warm a smile as she could muster. In the short time it took to finish diapering Flynn, nothing was said. For Olivia, the tension was bordering on unbearable. What had Tag told this woman about her? While Olivia had gotten along well with Tag and Fiona's parents, that had been before the night that had torn them apart. She hadn't a clue as to how they now felt about her.
"I've never been known for my tact," Fiona said, "so I'm going to come right out with it. Before learning of you and Flynn, Tag reminded us of the walking dead. He went through the motions of life, but that was about the extent of it. Since being with the two of you, he's come alive. Thank you for that."
Obviously Tag was putting on a great front when it came to the current state of their relations. "Other than telling you that I'm lying up here on my deathbed, Tag hasn't told you anything?"
Eyes narrowed, Fiona cocked her head. "By anything, I'm assuming his sunshine-and-roses routine is for our benefit?"
Cradling Flynn, Olivia made a split-second decision to take a chance. "If you have time, would you mind talking with me for a bit?" She gestured to the cozy sitting area nestled into a bay window.
"Sure."
Once they were both seated and Olivia had Flynn cradled against her for strength, she said, "I don't know how to put this delicately, so I'm going to come right out and say it. Your brother's regressed."
Fiona leaned forward. "What does that mean?"
Smoothing Flynn's hair, Olivia chose her next words carefully. "I've also had a rocky past. Before meeting Tag, I didn't believe it was possible to have a second shot at the whole happy ending. Up to a week ago, I had never---and I'm talking in my whole life---been more content, but..."
Groaning, Fiona said, "Say no more. You got too close and Tag spooked?"
"That pretty much sums it up."
"Mom and I have worried about something like this."
"You've actually discussed me?" A hot wave of embarrassment shot through her.
"More like praised you and dissed my brother. We all loved Maria, but in Flynn---and you---Tag's been given a second chance at having the family he's always dreamed of, and he's pissing it away."
Olivia blanched at Fiona's choice of words.
"Sorry. I was raised on the oil fields."
"T-that's okay."
"All right," Tag's sister said, fingers at her temples, "I've got to come up with a plan. Think, Fiona, think."
"I, um, appreciate your effort, but Tag's a lost cause." If Flynn and their one beautiful night and all the lovely moments in between hadn't jolted him out of the past, nothing would.
"Please don't give up on him," Fiona implored.
"I don't see what else I can do. Tag's already given up on himself."
"I MISSED YOU this afternoon," Tag said, watching Liv raid the fridge late that night---no doubt because she thought he was already in bed. "You said you'd come down to meet everybody."
"Sorry." She had a plastic container of barbecued ribs in one hand and a baggie of corn on the cob in the other. She used her butt to nudge the door closed. "I got caught up in researching case law."
Once she'd set everything on the counter, he got out a stick of butter and set it alongside her corn.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." To say this formality made him want to scream was putting it mildly. The two of them used to have such fun. For the life of him, he failed to see how one mistake had fundamentally changed everything between them. "Flynn was a big hit."
"That's nice." She'd taken a plate from the cabinet, and now set out her food to nuke.
"Liv..." He sighed. "What do I need to do to make things the way they used to be?"
"Not possible." She put her plate in the microwave and set it for two minutes.
"Why?" He stepped up behind her, wanting to touch her, but holding back. "I've apologized. I explained why I can't offer you more than deep friendship. When we first started this...I don't know...venture, for lack of a better word, you told me you weren't in the market for another man. I believed you."
"That makes us even," she said, her words laced with sadness. "Because until you started holding me, and kissing me, and making love to me, I believed you weren't even interested in me. It wasn't until you started sending signals that we might become something more than casual friends that I even considered it. But you know what? Once I did, it made sense. We...make sense. The only thing that doesn't is your superhuman grip on the past."
The microwave beeped.
Not sure how he was supposed to respond, especially since she'd made some valid points, he avoided the issue by removing her plate from the microwave.
When he grabbed it, the china was hotter than he'd expected, and the shock made him loosen his grip. The plate, ribs and corn cascaded to the floor, resulting in a greasy mess. "Damn."
"I'll clean it up," she said, already kneeling.
"Let me," he ordered. "I don't want you getting cut."
"Right." She shook her head. "You don't mind hurting me emotionally, but a cut finger would be a big tragedy."
"Stop putting words in my mouth," he said, using paper towels to scoop the food. "I genuinely care about you."
"And I genuinely appreciate having the same position in your life as a cherished collectible or piece of pricey art. I'm something nice to look at, but never touch."
"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?" He threw the dripping wad in the trash.
"Interesting word choice," she said, wetting a dishrag at the sink, then washing the floor. "Your sister accused you of pissing your life away. Guess that kind of talk runs in the family."
"Leave my sister out of it." He, too, grabbed a wet rag and began scouring the floor for stray bits of glass. "This doesn't concern her."
"That's where you're wrong. Your family loves you, Tag. They're tired of never having all of you."
"Yeah, well, I'm tired of them butting into my business. With Flynn, I'm feeling bloody fantastic."
"So what you're basically saying is that if only I were out of the picture, your life would be perfect?"
He sat back his heels. It took every ounce of patience left in him not to rail. "News flash," he said, mocking her earlier usage of the word, "but I've been under the impression that my life was perfect. You're the one giving me the cold shoulder."
"That's right, Tag..." She opened the pantry and removed a granola bar and box of crackers. "Just keep burying your head in the sand and everything will work out fine."
"You're some piece of work," he hollered after her when she left the kitchen and started up the stairs. He wanted to shout more, but she'd already slammed the door to her room.
AT LUNCH WITH HER FRIENDS on Tuesday at Farelli's Pizza, Olivia took the cheesiest piece of pepperoni and crammed it into her mouth. It might not have been ladylike, but nothing medicated hurt feelings quite like mozzarella. The canned accordion music wasn't conducive to peace, but it set a swift pace to eat by so she wouldn't be late getting back to her office.
"Has it been any better between you and Tag?" Gabby asked, taking minibites of pasta with pesto. She'd been on a diet for the past two weeks, but had gained three pounds. Looked as if now she was getting more serious.
"Define better." Mmm...the cheese was so good.
Steph said, "We want to know if you two are back to laughing and making out?"
After grabbing a third slice, Olivia signaled the waiter for a refill on her Sprite. "I stay in my room and Tag has the rest of the house. We split our time with Flynn."
Nose wrinkled, Gabby said, "That doesn't sound like fun. Don't you feel like a prisoner?"
Laughing, Olivia said, "You should see my room. It's amazing. Think superelegant hotel suite. Meaning, the only reason I need to leave is to forage for food."
"Sounds doable," Steph said, starting in on her second slice. "Are there servants?"
"A cleaning lady, but she only comes three times a week."
"La-di-da." Steph sprinkled dried hot peppers on her pizza. "I'd love to have someone help for even an hour. Seems like I can't ever catch up."
"You do have two times the mess," Gabby pointed out. "Just wait until they're walking."
"Way to give me indigestion," Steph complained.
Gabby used the Parmesan shaker as a gavel. "Back to the subject at hand. Olivia, please don't take this the wrong way, but ever since you and Tag have been fighting, you look exhausted. Like you're getting maybe a couple of hours' sleep every night---if you're lucky. Are you sure you're so content being stuck in your elegant tower?"
"I'm fine."
"Now that I've gotten a good look at you," Steph said, "I think Gabby's right."
"Would you guys lay off? I've got this handled."
"From what you've told us," Gabby said, "in a certain sense, your situation with Tag is no different than the one you had with Phil. That can't be healthy for you or Flynn."
Ignoring her friend in favor of a fourth slice of pizza, Olivia chewed.
"Ignore me all you want," Gabby persisted, "but deep down you have to know it's true. Only, instead of cheating on you with a woman from the next office, Tag's still essentially married to his dead wife. Her every photo is Tag's declaration of love---for someone other than you."
Hearing it put in terms like that sickened Olivia to the point that she dropped her pizza to the plate. Mind and heart spinning, she fought stinging eyes and a tight throat.
"Honey, I know you think you're doing what's best for Flynn, but pretty soon he's not going to be just an easily fooled baby. He'll sense the tension between Mommy and Daddy and take sides. For your sanity and your heart, get out now. While you still can."
"You mean move back into my own house? But---"
"I know it's going to be hard," Gabby said, covering Olivia's hand with her own, then giving her a supportive squeeze, "but not nearly as hard as the alternative. Living with a man who will never be emotionally available."
THE LAST THING Olivia wanted was to rehash Gabby's words over and over in her mind, but since Tag had Flynn and she'd already finished the work she'd brought home, she was at loose ends.
Venturing out of her suite, she went downstairs and into the living room. Typically, Tag took Flynn to the movie room, or to play with the pile of baby enrichment toys he'd set up on the carpet beneath the pool table.
In the living area she stood before the hearth. The portrait of Maria presided over the room. "I never even knew you," she whispered, "yet I find myself resenting you."
The built-in bookshelves sandwiching the fireplace were loaded with Maria's vacation pictures and mementos. A first-place tennis-tournament trophy from the Little Rock Country Club bore her name in elegant script. A brass plaque read "To Maria O'Malley in commemoration of all you've done for the Little Rock Junior League Christmas Toy Drive. We love you!"
Arms crossed, Olivia internalized everything before her. She recalled all the times Tag had declared his love for his memories. His refusal to let them go. His irrational fear that she, too, would die or leave him.
The gravity of her situation hit hard and fast.
Tag was playing her for a fool. Worse yet, because she'd been stupid enough to fall for him, she'd let him.
She used to think of herself as smart. Savvy. She didn't take crap from anyone---least of all a man. Yet look at her now. Legs quivering, she sank onto the plush area rug covering the tile.
Hugging her knees, she tried thinking back to a time before Tag. What had she done for entertainment? What had made her laugh? Furious? Embarrassed? Not much of anything. Her days had been filled with work and caring for Flynn. There had been occasional play dates penciled in with her girlfriends. That was pretty much it. No great highs, but also no great lows. If a person could be described in geographical terms, she'd been the Great Plains.
"You're a smelly boy..." she heard Tag say on the back stairs. "Yeah, buddy, we need to find your mother ASAP to help us deal with a mess like---Oh." Upon seeing her, he froze. "I didn't know you were down here."
"That okay?" she asked with a teary sniffle.
"Sure." Shifting Flynn to his other arm, he asked, "Everything all right?"
Nodding, she said, "As right as it can be, given the circumstances."
"I'm more than willing to start a truce if you are. Say the word and we'll go right back to the way we were."
"Impossible." She stood and held out her arms. "Let me change his diaper. I smell him from here."
"Wait." He cut her off at the base of the stairs. "Do we need to talk?"
Sadly she said, "It's too late for that. I think it'd be best if Flynn and I move out."
"Excuse me?" Eyes narrowed, Tag said, "I must not have heard you right."
She marched up the stairs. "I think you heard me---you just don't want to acknowledge what I said."
At the changing table she efficiently got their son smelling like his usual sweet self.
"Well?" she asked upon finishing. "Don't you have anything to say?"
"You'd better believe it. What is this, some kind of ploy to get me to marry you? Did my mom and sister put you up to it?"
From between gritted teeth she said, "If I weren't a lady, I'd slap you for that."
"Okay, sorry, but if that isn't the reasoning behind your announcement, then what is? Am I hogging all the hot water? You don't like the food?"
"If only the problem were so simple." Handing Flynn to him, she asked, "Mind watching him while I run out to find some boxes?"
"Liv, you can't be serious?"
"Dead serious." She took her purse from the dresser. "I should only be gone about thirty minutes."
"Stop," he said, setting Flynn in his crib. Chasing after her, Tag snagged her arm and urged her around to face him. "You owe me an explanation. You can't just take off with our son without a word."
"Please don't make this any harder," she said, looking near tears.
"Nothing has to be hard. You're making it that way." Taking her hand, he pulled her to the wing chairs in front of the bay window and said, "Sit. We'll talk this through."
While Tag's world was falling apart, Flynn remained blissfully unaware, plinking a toy piano that was fastened to the side of his crib.
Liv sat, but not all the way. She perched on the edge of the cushion, as if readying herself for an escape. "There's nothing left to say. The way I see it, we're at an impasse."
"Oh," he said, sitting in the other chair, "so this is still my fault? You're expecting me to drop my wife's memory like an old habit? Do you have any idea how awful that makes me feel? Like the worst kind of betrayal. How can I be here with you, living it up, happier than I've ever been, when Maria's stuck in a cold grave? Worse yet, what if I lose you, too? I can't chance it, and I resent the hell out of you for asking me to." He swiped tears from his whisker-stubbled cheeks.
Breaking down as well, Liv covered her face with her hands. "I love you, Tag. You. And the fact t-that you know how perfectly in sync w-we were, and yet you're willing to throw it all away for memories---loyalty to a dead woman and irrational fear---is killing me. I can't live like this---loving you, yet losing you to portraits and vacation snapshots and tennis trophies."
Seeing Liv cry was killing him, but he felt powerless to help. Rising, he went to her, kneeling in front of her chair, but she pushed him away.
"The last thing I need is your false comfort."
Pling, pling, pling. Flynn happily played.
"Nothing between us has to be false. Listen to him, Liv. Our son is content. Do you really want to take him away from his home over such a stupid issue?"
Laughing through more tears, she said, "How is me falling for you stupid? I would never have asked you to forget Maria---just to make a small place in your heart for me."
"In order to do that," he said, on the verge of crying again himself, "I'd have to be with you in every way. But I can't. And I'm sure as hell not strong enough to resist you."
"Oh, that's it." She pushed herself out of the chair. "You'd have to be with me? Like I'm damaged goods? Look in the mirror, buddy, because the only one damaged around here is you."
IN HER CAR OLIVIA SHOOK so badly she could hardly drive. She'd never meant to say all those things to Tag. Hadn't even realized how much he meant to her until all her emotions started pouring out.
She loved him.
Deeply, totally, crazily loved him, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do to stop it.
Which was why she had to do anything within her power to protect herself from falling into a depression the way she had after losing Phil and her unborn child. For Flynn's sake, she must stay strong.
Keeping this in mind, and not in the mood for scrounging for boxes, she found a U-Haul store still open on Kavanaugh. With her trunk filled, she steeled herself for more drama at the house.
After pulling into the garage and dragging all the boxes inside, she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and chugged it down.
"You were gone forty minutes."
She jumped to hear Tag walking up behind her. Hand to her chest, she said, "I hate it when you do that. Where's Flynn?"
"Sleeping. I gave him his bath."
"Thanks." She tossed her bottle into the recycle bin. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
"Okay, well, thank you." She took two boxes and headed up the stairs.
Tag took the rest and followed her.
"I can get those."
"I'm sure you could," he said from behind her, unnerving her with his proximity. "But what's the need when I'm right here?"
"Suit yourself."
In her room, Tag leaned the flat boxes against the north wall. "What can I do to help?"
Olivia bit her lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Could he honestly be so cruel as to have just offered to lend a hand in order to get her out of his house faster?
"Want me to tape the boxes so they're ready for you to put the stuff in?"
I hate you! she cried inside, refusing to give in to more tears. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"I'm trying to be a good guy here. The least you can do is answer."
"No, Tag, I don't want your help. I don't want to see you or talk to you. I just want you to go away."
She could tell by his stare that he wanted to say more, but thankfully he didn't.
"Leave," she said softly, not wanting to wake Flynn.
While Olivia's heart shattered, Tag opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut, nodded and walked out the door.
"THAT'S RIGHT," Stephanie crooned, holding and rocking Olivia, "let it out. Now that you're home again, you've got to put that awful man out of your head. He won't hurt you anymore."
"He'll never stop hurting me," Olivia wailed from her perch on the foot of her bed. Olivia and Steph had spent the morning loading boxes into Steph's minivan. Flynn was at his Montessori day care, and Steph's girls were with her sister. "He has half custody of my son."
"That's okay. You'll see, time will fly. When Tag has Flynn we'll keep you busy. Gabby and I will take you shopping and out to dinner and movies. It'll be fun."
Olivia knew she needed to calm herself, but now that she was back in her own home, an inner tremble had set in that she was powerless to stop. All that she'd gone through with Phil, and her miscarriage, came rushing back. Melding her past with her present into darkness she couldn't breach.
"Want me to call Dane?" Steph asked. "He has a knack for always knowing the right thing to say. I know you two are friends."
With a violent shake of her head, Olivia said, "No. I'm better. I'm not going to fall apart again. Not like I did in D.C. I'm older now. Stronger. I've had my mini-breakdown, and enough's enough." Straightening, Olivia forced a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
Steph went into the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues. "Dry your eyes and blow your nose."
Nodding, Olivia did as her friend told her.
"Better?"
She nodded, forcing a smile. "Thank you. You're a good friend."
Stephanie wrapped her arm around Olivia's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I haven't done anything you wouldn't have handled on your own."
"That might be, but..." Laughing through lingering hiccups and sniffles at her histrionics, Olivia said, "Your hugs probably sped things along."
"TAG, HONEY," ALICE SAID over the phone a full two weeks after Olivia had left, "I know you're having a tough time, but the work's piling up around here and we need you to come in. At least to sign payroll checks and a few supply contracts."
Raking his fingers through his hair, he said, "I'll be in soon. Promise."
"Is there anything we can do?"
"No." He pressed his index finger into the bread crumbs scattered over the kitchen counter. Maria always liked a tidy house, but lately he'd let the place go. "Call in case of emergency, but otherwise leave me alone."
Tag hung up his cell.
He walked into the living room and stared out the big picture windows.
Outside, it looked to be a beautiful day.
Over the calm river, the sky was blue with cotton-candy clouds. It was the kind of day perfect for taking his son to the zoo. Or maybe fishing. Hiking, as he'd done with Liv at Rolling Rock.
How simple everything had been there.
Skimming his hand along his whisker-stubbled jaw, he closed his eyes and thought back to the night he'd gotten sick and Liv had been his savior, bringing him Sprite and crackers. He thought of her pot roast and the ham she'd made for his parents. The Doris Day movies she'd cajoled him into watching and that he'd actually enjoyed. Their afternoon in the rowboat when he'd used up all his self-restraint in trying not to kiss her.
Eyes open, he spun around, bringing himself face-to-face with the portrait of Maria.
He remembered as if it had happened only moments ago the day she'd sat for the artist. She'd been in the backyard, in the spring, sitting cross-legged with her dark hair long and free. More formal than the portrait in the kitchen, in this one she'd worn white. Her expression had been serene. Her face tilted back to catch the sun. Maria had loved the sun. Every vacation, he'd dragged her to some sweltering beach where he'd lain around feeling big and awkward while she'd pranced in a one-piece that managed to look sexier than a bikini. Her olive skin bronzed and never burned. He'd always teased her about having been born of the sun she so loved.
The dogwoods had been in full bloom that day. Tulips and daffodils had flavored the air.
If he tried hard enough, willed it to be, he could smell the lone daffodil he'd plucked from a bunch to tuck behind Maria's ear. The artist had captured that flower. Just as he'd captured Tag's wife. Forever freezing them in time.
Freezing them.
Like curios to be put on a special shelf. Taken out only to be dusted once a week. That was what his lovely marriage had been reduced to.
Wishing he were drunk, but in reality mind-numbingly sober, he sat right there on the cold tile floor. Cold. Like everything he now shared with his former wife.
He was lonely.
He missed Flynn.
Most of all, he missed Liv. Her laugh, her sparkling eyes. And the idiocy of that missing was that she'd been here all along. Just a short drive from being in his arms. She wasn't in a grave, but alive and warm and vibrant and proclaiming to love him, but he'd thrown that love away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, standing, walking on autopilot to the hearth. Reaching his arms high, he took down Maria's painting. He held it and held it and then kissed her goodbye.
He painstakingly rounded up every photo, every souvenir and knickknack. Once he'd gathered a big pile, he took Maria's treasured Louis Vuitton luggage that had cost him as much as a car and stuffed it full of her things. He took everything to the attic, then stashed her portrait in his walk-in closet.
From there he took a shower and shaved. Dressed in his favorite black suit with the cobalt shirt and tie Alice always said he looked handsome in, and then he set out to reclaim his future.
"WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE for dinner?" Olivia asked her son, peeking at him in the rearview mirror.
He blew gurgling raspberries.
"Mmm...sounds delicious." She'd been introducing him to more solid foods, and on tonight's menu she was thinking pureed ham. Which instantly reminded her of the ham Tag had helped her glaze, but she wasn't going there---ever again.
Pulling into the neighborhood, she waved at Leona, who was out working in the entry garden---her latest neighborhood volunteer position.
Olivia approached her driveway, only to slam on the brakes. What the...
Tag's Hummer blocked the front door of her house. What was he doing here? Was he wanting time with Flynn? Would he want to stay here, or take him back to Little Rock? If that was the case, how was she supposed to graciously let her son go?
Stomach knotted, she pressed her garage-door opener.
Tag climbed out of his car to meet her as she got out of hers. "Hey."
She glared.
"Brrr," he said with a big grin. Rounding to the passenger side, he helped himself to Flynn, unbuckling him from his car seat. He hung the diaper bag over his shoulder and gave Flynn a playful toss in the air. "There's my boy. You love to fly. You're going to be a pilot, aren't you?"
"I---Is there a reason you're here?" she asked. "Other than to make my son throw up?"
"Our son. And, yes, as a matter of fact, I am here on a mission."
"Would you mind getting to it?" she snapped. "I have a lot to do." Like scrubbing her son to free him from all of his father's cooties. Childish, yes, but she couldn't help it any more than she could help eating about four quarts of Ben & Jerry's to cleanse herself from just having to see him.
"Ooh, Mommy's a little testy," he had the gall to say to Flynn.
"Are you here just to annoy me, or do you have a real reason for your visit?"
"As real as it gets," he said with a wink. "Invite me in?"
Sighing, she eased her key into the lock. With any luck, he'd say what he had to say fast. Then she'd get him out of her house, making sure he understood that in the future, when he wanted to visit Flynn, he'd need to at least be courteous enough to make an appointment.
Tag pressed the garage-door down button.
In the kitchen, Olivia set her purse on the counter.
Tag dropped the diaper bag to the floor.
Flynn bucked and giggled.
"Calm down, little man. Let me talk to Mommy and then we'll play."
Olivia swallowed the knot in her throat. Why was Tag acting like this? The way he used to. Didn't he realize he was only hurting her more? Worse yet, didn't he care? "I---I can't do this," she said. "I can't pretend everything's great between us when nothing could be further from the---"
Tag silenced her with a kiss. Not just any kiss, but an epic one that turned her knees to jelly and her soul to mush. "I'm sorry. For all of it."
"Just like that?" She wanted to believe him, but couldn't.
"I've been a fool. But I put all of Maria's pictures away and now I'm ready to try committing to you." He kissed her again, but she pushed him away.
"Are you even listening to yourself? You can't flick your feelings on and off like a switch."
Conking the heel of his free hand against his forehead, he said, "Why did I even bother? I should've known if I opened myself up to you, you'd shoot me down."
"I'd shoot you down? Do you even remember me proclaiming my love for you, and you pretty much telling me to get lost?"
"I never said that," Tag protested. "You're mixing my words. You're not even being logical."
On that note she would agree. But the time for logic was long gone. Being around this infuriating man made her crazed. One side of her was so busy thinking about how strong and handsome he looked in his suit, carrying Flynn, that her rational side could barely reach through with its message for her to run.
"Liv, please, honey." Stepping closer, he extended his hand to touch her, but she flinched away. "Think this through. The whole time we were together, I've been the holdout to us being happy. Why would I now show up to beg you for a second chance if I weren't sincere?"
Having no answer, only crippling pain and confusion coursing through her, she said, "I appreciate the fact that you believe you're ready to try being with me. But I don't want a man to try. I want someone who loves me wholly and completely or I don't want anyone at all."
"You should've heard her," Tag said that night to his big brother, Liam. They sat at a corner table at Hulihan's, their favorite bar. "The woman was one hundred percent certifiable."
"Give her time," Liam said, using the bottom of his Killian's Red to nudge their shared plate of hot wings closer to Tag. "Eat and drink. If it's meant to be, it'll sort itself out."
Tag shook his head. "I agreed to pick up the tab, and that's the best advice you can give me?"
"Beer's cheap," he said, finishing off his fourth bottle. "Now, if you want to spring for Midleton, you'd be amazed at the knowledge I'd impart."
Sighing, Tag said, "Remind me next time I'm in crisis mode to call Fiona."
"What's she going to tell you? Camp outside your lady's front door, apologizing and singing ballads? Pfft." He signaled to the waitress to bring another bottle. "Ask me, Olivia needs to knock off this whiny crap and take it like a man."
Oh, boy, here it comes. One could always tell Liam had had a bit too much to drink when he started in with his take-it-like-a-man speeches.
"Point of fact," Tag said, "Liv's a woman. A seriously hot woman."
"In that case, all you have to do is apologize and camp on her doorstep. Maybe sing something. Works every time."
Tag rolled his eyes.
THE NEXT NIGHT Tag followed his gut instinct and invited Fiona out for dinner at her favorite seafood place. While Fiona called it a night with one piña colada, the woman could eat twice her weight in crab legs. "When you have time for a break," Tag said, "I'd love to talk with you about Liv."
"Sure," she said, wincing while bearing down on her cracking pliers. "Just let me get this claw open, and I'll be right with you."
"Jeez, my life's in shambles here---can you throw me a bone?"
After dredging her prized chunk of meat in drawn butter, then popping it into her mouth, closing her eyes and groaning with pleasure, she said, "I've actually been giving this a lot of thought. What you need to do is something outrageous. Something so big and exciting that she won't be able to stop herself from falling into your arms."
"You're not about to suggest I camp on her doorstep and sing, are you?"
She blanched. "That's a horrible idea. Is that what Liam told you to do?"
"Possibly." Tag had to laugh to himself over his big brother's advice getting shot down by the master. He should've just come to Fiona first. Out of the whole lot of O'Malley kids, she'd always been the one with the longest, happiest relationships. "So anyway, what's this megaplan of yours and how long's it going to take?"
"Patience, pumpkin. This will require finesse."
"Don't you have any plans that get straight to the point? Like shaking sense into her."
Pausing midbite, she said, "Shaking would not be advised."
"I THINK SHE'S BEING unreasonable," Steph said, sitting on the edge of Olivia's backyard pool. "Tag came to her, apologized, claimed to have put away all of his wife's things...what more does she want?"
Gabby pitched a tortilla chip at her. "What she wants is the prince charging up on his white stallion."
"That whole prince thing is highly overrated."
"Ladies," Olivia interrupted, "would you mind letting me handle my own problems?"
"We'd be happy to," Steph said, "but you're not handling anything. You're hiding. I know I say this all the time, but if I had a second chance with Michael, I'd give anything for just one more day. I get where Tag was coming from on having a tough time separating himself from his memories of his wife. But he did, Olivia. For you. If you ask me, the ball's now in your court, and if you're even half as smart as I believe you to be, then you need to let us take care of Flynn while you go get your man."
Gabby clapped. "Hear, hear. I couldn't have said it better myself."
"You both need to mind your own business. Obviously Tag and I were never meant to be."
"Why?" Steph asked. "Because at this point, the only thing I see standing between you two being together is your fear."
"Fear that I remember all too well from Phil," Olivia argued. "I know we hadn't met back then, but trust me, I was a mess. I can't---won't---go through that again if Tag should one day decide he's tired of me."
"Would you listen to yourself," Steph said, kicking her feet in the glistening water. "You're planning your divorce before you're even married."
"Tag didn't propose. All he said was that he was willing to try working things out between us."
"But that's not good enough for you?" Steph asked. "Flip it around. What if you were the one trying to let go of your past, but having a hard time. What if you were honestly trying, only Tag flat-out rejected you?"
"He did."
"Oops." Steph at least had the good grace to look guilty for having rubbed Olivia's nose in the embarrassment of Tag's rejection. "Okay, well, let's just go with Plan B."
"Which is?"
Steph looked to Gabby. "We're not sure. But as soon as we dream it up, you'll be first to know."
"IT'S ABOUT TIME you got back in the office." Despite Tag's best efforts to avoid Alice, she dogged him all the way to his desk chair. "You'd better see this," she said. "I think it's important."
Without even looking at it, Tag took the envelope and set it atop the pile he planned to spend the day trying to tackle.
"Boss, you really should take a look. It's from the Georgette County Court."
Rubbing his closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger, Tag exhaled sharply. What now? He really couldn't take much more fun.
"Want me to open it for you?"
"Sure." The letter was probably just a formalized statement concerning Flynn's custody.
"Oh, my." Hand to her chest, Alice said, "This can't be good."
"What?" he asked, wishing she'd leave him in peace to get on with his day.
"From the sound of this, Ms. Marshall is seeking full custody of your son. You're due in court on Friday."
Barking at Alice to leave the letter and get his lawyer on the phone, Tag felt his head begin to throb. Hadn't Liv already put him through enough? Why would she do something so deliberately hurtful as to try barring him from his son?
"WHY IS HE DOING THIS, Dane? He knows Flynn means the world to me." In Dane's chambers, Olivia dropped onto one of the two burgundy leather guest chairs in front of his imposing desk.
"Relax," Dane said, punching in a number on his desk phone. "Judge Marsbury's a fair man. I can't imagine him doing anything rash or..." He waved to her when whoever was on the other end picked up.
A brief exchange provided nothing more than Dane discovering that the judge was out of town. "Really?" Dane asked. "You don't even show him as having his court in session on Friday?" More chitchat, and then "Well, thank you for checking for me...No, that won't be necessary...Yes, you, too." He hung up. "Strange. Let me see your letter again."
While he looked over her document, she said, "I can't believe this is happening. I thought I knew Tag better than this."
"I've gotta say..." Dane scratched his head. "Putting the court-docket-scheduling dilemma aside, this second custody case is unorthodox, but not unheard-of. There is a segment of the population who use children as weapons. Maybe Tag's one of them?"
"No. I refuse to believe that of him. I'll bet his family put him up to it."
Clearing his throat, Dane said, "I hate to state the obvious, but did you ever think of calling him? Asking him point-blank why he's taking this route?"
"I suppose I could call, but that would mean actually speaking to him, which is totally out of the question."
WITH TAG'S ATTORNEY out of town and none of his firm's partners even taking his calls, Tag showed up solo at the Georgette County Courthouse Friday morning. None of this made sense. He'd tried calling Liv a million times, but she never answered. He took her lack of communication as an admission of guilt. She knew what she was doing was wrong, and she didn't care.
Well, if that was the way she wanted to play it, bring it on. He'd never backed down from a fight and wasn't about to start now.
The courthouse lobby was quiet. The only person present other than him was a janitor pushing a rolling trash bin down the hall.
Tag checked his watch---8:55.
The hearing was supposed to start at nine. Where the hell was everyone?
Behind him, the courthouse door swished open. Liv, dressed to kill in a black power suit and matching heels---also on her own---entered the building.
Not bothering to hide his hostility, he asked, "Where's your lawyer?"
"Family emergency." Taking off her black sunglasses, she asked, "Yours?"
"Couldn't make it on such short notice. Thanks for the heads-up."
Setting her briefcase and purse on the center of three pewlike benches, she stuck her index finger in his face. "Don't you dare talk to me about not giving you a courtesy call when we wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you suing for full custody."
"That's B.S.," he said, so angry he felt on the verge of losing control. The woman made him crazy. "You're the one demanding full custody. It says so right here." From his suit's chest pocket he took the letter that had summoned him to appear.
As Liv scanned it, her expression transformed from enraged to confused to...laughter? "It appears we've been played. Check out my official notice."
They were identical, with the exception of their different addresses and the party suing.
"Surprise!" From out of the courtroom where they'd first battled erupted balloons and throbbing, awful disco music and just about everyone he'd ever known on the planet. His parents, brothers, Alice, Liv's aunt and uncle...Hell, even Tabitha the punk sitter they had yet to use.
Groaning, Tag spied his sister. "You did this, didn't you?"
"With help." All smiles, she pulled in her accomplices. "Tag, meet Stephanie and Gabby. Olivia, I presume you've already met my cohostesses?"
"The more I think about it, the less funny this is, guys." Waving her letter, Olivia looked to Gabby. "And I'm pretty sure Dane would eat you alive if he knew you'd not only snatched official courthouse stationery, but forged a judge's name."
"No, I didn't," Gabby said. "If you weren't so caught up in how miserable you are, you'd have noticed that the letterhead might be similar to the county's, but it's nowhere close to exact."
"You covered all the bases, didn't you?" Tag said. "Once in all of this scheming, did it ever occur to the three of you that Liv and I were genuinely hurting? This isn't a game."
"It's about time you figured that out," Tag's mother said. "I love you, son, but think of this as an intervention---for both you and Olivia. You two are headed down a dangerous and unnecessary path. Yes, those letters you received weren't real, but they could be if you don't admit you're perfect for each other and get on with your lives. Look how much time you've already wasted. Do you really want this to go on anymore?"
Tag looked at Liv. Lord, she was pretty. He'd forgotten how just waking up with her in his home had brightened his days. Holding out his hand, he asked, "Want to blow this joint and find somewhere private to talk?"
For Olivia, walking hand in hand with Tag in warm, late-spring sun felt like a fragile dream. "That was some scene in there, huh?"
"Yeah," Tag grumbled. "I feel played. I'm never speaking to my sister again."
"If you think about it, we should both take all of that effort as a compliment. We have great family and friends."
"Buttinsky family and friends. How did they fit so many people in that courtroom? How did they even get the key to that courtroom?"
A faint smile playing about her lips, Olivia said, "Little known fact, but the county's always in a budget deficit, meaning for the right price, plus an additional cleaning fee, they'll rent out a courtroom for business meetings and such. Being the wife of a judge, Gabby would know the logistics."
"Swell." Stopping on a park bench facing a splashing fountain ringed with red, white and purple petunias, Tag motioned for her to have a seat.
She did. And suddenly, staring up at the man she loved, at his brown eyes and mussed hair, his square jaw and slightly crooked nose, reminded her all over again of why she'd first fallen for him. It wasn't because he was movie-star gorgeous, or always said the right thing. It was because unlike Phil, Tag was real. He didn't lie. He didn't play games. He was just his goofball, lovable self. How had she gotten so caught up in her fear of repeating the past that she'd failed to see what an amazing future she and Tag would share if only she'd give him a try?
"I'm sorry," she said when he'd sat next to her, warming her thigh with his. "When you came to me, telling me you'd put away all of Maria's things, I should've right then and there hugged you and never let you go. I'm ashamed that I ever doubted your commitment to Flynn and me."
"I'm the one who's ashamed," he said, cupping his hand to her cheek. "You snuck into my heart so quietly, yet so completely, I never even saw it coming. I love you, Olivia Marshall. I love our son. I want you to marry me and be by my side as long as God allows."
Nodding and crying, she kissed him, then pulled him into a hug. "I love you so much. I never want to let you go."
"That can be arranged," he said with his slow, sexy grin. "Now, seeing as how our self-appointed facilitators have spied us kissing and are headed this way, what would you think about picking up Flynn and running off to our cabin at Rolling Rock?"
"Why, Mr. O'Malley, you wouldn't be planning on breaking Ms. Eleanor's commingling rule, would you?"
"Hell, yeah..." He kissed her again, melting her through and through.
Once they came up for air, she asked, "One more thing. Can we stop off at a store along the way?"
"What do you need?" he asked as he rose and held out his hand to help her from the bench.
Easing her fingers between his, she said, "I need everything but killer meat loaf."
STANDING ON the courthouse steps, hands on her hips, watching Tag and Olivia run toward the parking lot, Stephanie was not a happy camper. "Where do they think they're going? Are they trying to ditch us?"
Gabby put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Look on the bright side---though they might not be eating any of the breakfast casseroles and breads we slaved over, we did fully accomplish our goal of getting them together."
"I guess you're right, but I'm still bummed. I never have gotten to see them as a happy couple."
"Pace yourself." All smiles, Gabby said, "I have a feeling they're going to be together for a nice long time."
"Nervous?" Steph asked Olivia just before stepping out into what used to be Tag's backyard. With the sun setting on a perfect July night, it currently resembled more of a wonderland than an average yard, with hundreds of pink old-fashioned roses, ivy and tulle festooning two hundred white chairs. Serving as the altar was a brand-new white gazebo that Tag had had constructed especially for this day. It, too, was decked out in a cascade of roses and hydrangea and lily of the valley, all intertwined with ivy and air fern and still more tulle. Mother Nature provided the ultimate wedding accessory in the form of a breathtaking view. Lightning bugs glowed amongst hanging candles and miniature white lights strung high in the trees.
"I'm a little shaky," Olivia said, feeling bridal in a princess-cut, white satin gown. Lavish swirls of Swarovski crystals and beading twinkled on the bodice and long skirt. "But more for the ceremony to be over so I never have to be apart from Tag again."
Gabby and Fiona were also bridesmaids, but since Gabby was pregnant again and had had to make a pit stop, they were both back upstairs.
Rather than having a maid of honor, Olivia had opted for a best man in the form of her son. Sitting in a souped-up stroller that Aunt Fiona had volunteered to push, Flynn was decked out just like his father in mini tuxedo pants, a white dinner jacket and all the trimmings.
"Whew, that's better," Gabby said, with Fiona running up behind her. The bridesmaids' dresses were pink satin with plenty of crystals and full skirts.
"Ready?" Fiona asked. "My mom's looking antsy."
Laughing, Olivia asked, "Does she think Flynn and I are going to bolt?"
"Lord knows---you two have done it before. Plus, she's so worried about Dad's tux pants fitting after all of the parties and showers you and Tag have had that she might just be having a general meltdown."
"I hope not," Olivia said, adjusting her veil. "I want her to be able to enjoy our happy day."
Fiona signaled to the harpist and string octet that they were ready to begin.
"Breathe," Gabby reminded Olivia.
"I'll try."
And then they were off. Stephanie and Gabby, Fiona and Flynn.
To the elegant strains of Wagner's "Bridal Chorus," Olivia began her walk toward the man of her dreams. Tag stood with his brothers and father, his face brightened by the smile she'd so grown to love.
The seats were filled with friends and loved ones. Even the famed Grandma Myrtle had made it to Little Rock for the big event. Tabitha, upset by the fact that she had yet to perform a single night of sitting, had sent her regrets. Feeling bad about that fact, Olivia had sent her a large consolation check that would hopefully be used for med-school tuition rather than more piercings.
Their vows passed in a blur.
As did the formal photos and receiving line.
Not that Olivia didn't relish every minute of the day she'd been dreaming of her entire life, but the moment she most looked forward to was when she and her new husband stole a quiet moment alone. She had a special gift for him that she selfishly wanted to give him on her own.
The time finally came after their prime rib and lobster dinner, after they'd cut the five-tiered cake and after their first official dance as man and wife.
"Have I mentioned how beautiful you looked strolling down the aisle toward me?" Tag said, holding her in his arms while they swayed to a local big band's rendition of Glen Miller's "Moonlight Serenade."
"Thank you," she said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "And you, sir, looked very handsome. Were you scared?"
"Not at all. You?"
"Just during the part where the minister asked if anyone objected." Laughing, she said, "I could just imagine Steph, Gabby and your sister cooking up something to mortify us. I'm relieved they decided to keep it classy."
"Me, too." He stole another kiss. "Excited about our honeymoon?"
Nodding, loving the sensation of being back in his arms, she said, "I've always wanted to go to Ireland. I just wish Flynn were a little older so that he could appreciate the sights."
"We'll go back when he's taller than me."
"Sounds great," she said, inching away so that she could see his dear face when she let him in on her surprise. "But would you mind springing for one extra plane ticket?"
"Sure." His expression questioning, he asked, "Are you wanting to take a friend or Tabitha or something?"
"That would be nice, but I was thinking more along the lines of somebody a little smaller."
Dawning came slowly, but when Tag finally got the gist of what she was saying, his smile lit the night.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5042-4
THE BABY BATTLE
Copyright © 2010 by Laura Marie Altom.
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\*\*Baby Boom

