never a bad time for sensuality. For nuances. For seduction.”
The humor in his eyes took the edge of arrogance off his words. “If you’re aiming to persuade me to leave with you, you’re going about it completely the wrong way.”
“There’s no denying we slept together.”
“Clearly.” She nodded toward the Pack ’n Play where their son slept contentedly, unaware that his little world had just been turned upside down.
“There’s no denying that it was good between us. Very good.”
Elliot’s husky words snapped her attention back to his face. There wasn’t a hint of humor in sight. Awareness tingled to the roots of her hair.
Swallowing hard, she sank into an old cane rocker. “It was impulsive. We were both tipsy and sentimental and reckless.” The rush of that evening sang through her memory, the celebration of his win, reminiscing about his first dirt track race, a little wine, too much whimsy, then far too few clothes.... “I refuse to regret that night or call our...encounter...a mistake since I have Eli. But I do not intend to repeat the experience.”
“Now that’s just a damn shame. What a waste of good sexual chemistry.”
“Will you please stop?” Her hands fisted on the arms of the wooden rocker. “We got along just fine as friends for thirty years.”
“Are you saying we can be friends again?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “No more hiding out and keeping big fat secrets from each other?”
His words carried too much truth for comfort. “You’re twisting my words around.”
“God’s honest truth, Lucy Ann.” He sighed. “I’m trying to call a truce so we can figure out how to plan our son’s future.”
“By telling me to ditch my clothes? You obviously missed class the day they taught the definition of truce.”
“Okay, you’re right. That wasn’t fair of me.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “I’m not thinking as clearly as I would like. Learning about Eli has been a shock to say the least.”
“I can understand that.” Her hands unfurled to grip the rocker. “And I am so very sorry for any pain this has caused you.”
“Given that I’ve lost the first two months of my son’s life, the least you can do is give me four weeks together. Since you’re working from home here, you’ll be able to work on the road, as well. But if going on the race circuit is a deal breaker, I’ll bow out this season.”
She jolted in surprise that he would risk all he’d worked so hard to achieve, a career he so deeply loved. “What about your sponsors? Your reputation?”
“This is your call.”
“That’s not fair to make an ultimatum like that, to put it on me.”
“I’m asking, and I’m offering you choices.”
Choices? Hardly. She knew how important his racing career was to him. And she couldn’t help but admit to feeling a bit of pride in having helped him along the way. There was no way she could let him back out now.
She tossed up her hands. “Fine. Eli and I will travel with you on the race circuit for the next four weeks so you can figure out whatever it is you want to know and make your plans. You win. You always do.”
* * *
Winning didn’t feel much like a victory tonight.
Elliot poured himself a drink from the wet bar at his hotel. He and Lucy Ann had struck a bargain that he would stay at a nearby historic home that had been converted into a hotel while she made arrangements to leave in the morning. He’d called for a car service to pick him up, making use of his credit card numbers, memorized, a fact he hadn’t bothered mentioning to Lucy Ann earlier. Although she should have known. Had she selectively forgotten or had she been that rattled?
The half hour waiting for the car had been spent silently staring at his son while Eli slept and Lucy Ann hid in the other room under the guise of packing.
Elliot’s head was still reeling. He had been knocked unconscious and kidnapped, and found out he had an unknown son all in one day. He tipped back the glass of bourbon, emptying it and pouring another to savor, more slowly, while he sat out on the garden balcony where he would get better cell phone reception.
He dropped into a wrought-iron chair and let the Carolina moon pour over him. His home state brought such a mix of happy and sad memories. He was always better served just staying the hell away. He tugged his cell from his waistband, tucked his Bluetooth in his ear and thumbed autodial three for Malcolm Douglas.
The ringing stopped two buzzes in. “Brother, how’s it going?”
“How do you think it’s going, Douglas? My head hurts and I’m pissed off.” Anger was stoked back to life just thinking about his friends’ arrogant stunt, the way they’d played with his life. “You could have just told me about the baby.”
Malcolm chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t have been half as fun that way.”
“Fun? You think this is some kind of game? You’re a sick bastard.” The thought of them plotting this out while he partied blissfully unaware had him working hard to keep his breath steady. He and his friends had played some harsh jokes on one another in the past, but nothing like this. “How long have you known?”
“For about a week,” the chart-topping musician answered unrepentantly.
“A week.” Seven days he could have had with his son. Seven days his best friends kept the largest of secrets from him. Anger flamed through him. Was there nobody left in this world he could trust? He clenched his hand around the glass tumbler until it threatened to shatter. “And you said nothing at all.”
“I know it seems twisted, but we talked it through,” he said, all humor gone, his smooth tones completely serious for once. “We thought this was the best way. You’re too good at playing it cool with advance notice. You would have just made her mad.”
“Like I didn’t already do that?” He set aside the half-drunk glass of bourbon, the top-shelf brand wasted on him in his current mood.
“You confronted her with honesty,” Malcolm answered reasonably. “If we’d given you time to think, you’d have gotten your pride up. You would have been angry and bullish. You can be rather pigheaded, you know.”
“If I’m such a jackass, then why are we still friends?”
“Because I’m a jackass, too.” Malcolm paused before continuing somberly. “You would have done the same for me. I know what it’s like not to see your child, to have missed out on time you can never get back...”
Malcolm’s voice choked off with emotion. He and his wife had been high school sweethearts who’d had to give up a baby girl for adoption since they were too young to provide a life for their daughter. Now they had twins—a boy and a girl—they loved dearly, but they still grieved for that first child, even knowing they’d made the right decision for her.
Although Malcolm and Celia had both known about their child from the start.
Elliot forked his hands through his buzzed hair, kept closely shorn since he’d let his thoughts of Lucy Ann distract him and he’d caught his car on fire just before Christmas—nearly caught himself on fire, as well.
He’d scorched his hair; the call had been that damn close.
“I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact she’s kept his existence from me for so long.”
Malcolm snorted. “I can’t believe the two of you slept together.”
A growl rumbled low in his throat. “You’re close to overstepping the bounds of our friendship with talk like that.”
“Ahhh.”