The Road Not Taken (The Daddy Diaries) Page 8

  “Restoring it must give you a sense of satisfaction, then. And purpose. Especially after everything that happened in Buffalo.”

  He made a noncommittal sound, not at all sure he liked how quickly she’d reached that conclusion. Not at all sure he liked how well she understood him.

  Their hot cocoa was long gone and the candle had burned down considerably, its sides caving in on the hollowed-out center. So much for his mother’s Easter dinner centerpiece, Jake thought. But with no real regret. He’d enjoyed sitting in the semidark of the quiet kitchen with Caro.

  Talking.

  Even if every now and then when she tilted her head a certain way and her gaze caught the reflection of the candle, he’d also found himself wanting to do a lot more.

  It surprised him that he’d told her everything that he had, even if he’d left out a lot of the uglier details and how he felt about them.

  After he’d bared his soul, he’d half expected her to shy away from him. Politely, of course. She was a guest under his roof, after all. But he’d sensed no revulsion, no attempt to establish distance. She’d listened and, oddly enough, that had made him want to open up.

  Talking to Caro wasn’t like talking to the department psychologist, who was a nice enough guy with a batch of diplomas on his office wall to attest to his education and expertise. Nor was it like talking to his family, who were as angry at him for not fighting to salvage his reputation as they were with city officials for tossing him to the wolves.

  No, talking with Caro was different, though he wasn’t sure exactly how. Or why, even now, he wanted to keep doing it, and maybe probe into her past a little.

  Instead, he pointed to the candle and said, “I guess we should call it a night.”

  “Yes. It’s late.”

  Neither of them moved, though. The candle flickered invitingly as the silence stretched. Caro was the one who finally stood. While she carried their mugs to the sink and rinsed them, Jake collected the flashlight. When she finished, he flipped it on and blew out the flame.

  She pulled the robe’s belt tight, secured the lapels at her throat. “Well, good night.”

  “I’ll walk you up. The fire will need another log or two.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  The steps groaned and creaked under their feet. Jake half expected his mother to materialize at the top of the stairs, like she used to when he was a kid creeping in past curfew. But the door to the room in which his parents were staying remained closed.

  When they reached the bedroom, his plan was to stoke the fire to life and make his exit before things could get more awkward. As it was, he felt as if he were walking a date home after a night out, his palms sweating as he anticipated things he had no right to anticipate.

  As he’d suspected, the fire was down to embers again. In the morning, he would have to restock the wood bin to the side of the hearth. Only a couple of logs remained. They would be enough to see Caro comfortably through what remained of the night. It took only a couple of minutes to accomplish his goal while Caro stood patiently behind him, shining the flashlight until its beam was no longer necessary.

  Jake rose to his feet and dusted his palms together. “That should keep you warm enough until the morning.”

  “Thanks.”

  She handed him the flashlight, which he tapped against his thigh. Words bubbled up inside him. Caro had that effect on him, apparently. “Thank you.”

  Her eyelids flickered in surprise. “For what?”

  “I’m not sure.” His laughter was strained and self-conscious. “For listening, I guess.”

  She smiled. “I told you I was good at it.”

  “Yes, you did.” He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her fingers were fine-boned and slender, and her skin was soft, in direct contrast to the calluses that thickened his palms. “And you are. A very good listener, even for someone like me who doesn’t much like talking … about stuff.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier to converse with a stranger than it is with family members or close friends,” she offered.

  He nodded, but he couldn’t help thinking that her theory was flawed. Caro didn’t seem much like a stranger to him, even though in the strictest sense of the word that was exactly what she was. They’d known one another less than twenty-four hours. That their paths had crossed at all was as much a fluke as the late-season storm.

  “I guess so.”

  He was still holding her hand he realized. The bigger surprise was that he was in no hurry to release it and leave. He glanced away and his gaze caught on the bed. The covers were every bit as rumpled as he usually left them. He swallowed, because messing them up was what he had in mind now, but not out of restlessness. When he looked back at Caro, she seemed to understand the prurient direction of his thoughts. Her lips had parted and her breathing had turned labored.

  “I really should go. Right now,” he whispered, more for his own benefit than hers.

  The words held an odd note of desperation. Even so, he failed to heed them. Instead of releasing her hand and heading for the door, he pulled her toward him.

  Jake did it slowly, giving her time to push away. She didn’t, and so he lowered his head, moving slowly again. That anticipation he’d tried to ignore built right along with need. Finally, his mouth found hers. When her lips parted in acceptance, it was all he could do to hold back his moan of pleasure.

  Caro fit him perfectly. Not only her mouth but her body, which was molded to his from chest to thigh. She was thin, but with curves in all the right places. He knew this for a fact now, because his hands sought them out as desperation and need broke free of their restraints.

  “Jake.”

  She sighed his name as his mouth cruised down her neck. She smelled of his soap and hot cocoa, a combination as unexpectedly beguiling as the woman herself. When he would have stopped, she cupped his face and brought his mouth back to hers for a second taste of heaven. All the while, the bed just behind them beckoned, taunting him and testing his resolve.

  Good sense finally prevailed, battling to the surface through a turbulent sea of hormones. Sex with Caro would be a bad idea. As soon as the roads were passable and her car was fixed, she would be on her way. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He wasn’t in the market or in the mood for a relationship, and she didn’t strike him as the type to go for no-strings sex.

  For that matter, he wasn’t big on bed-hopping himself. Perhaps if he were, he wouldn’t have spent the past several months sexually frustrated.

  She deserved better than what little he had to offer her. She deserved someone who was emotionally whole. Someone whose reputation wasn’t besmirched. It took a Herculean effort, but Jake found the strength to break away.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said inanely when he finally caught his breath.

  She blinked. Even in the low light he saw her cheeks turn pink. And no wonder. He’d been the one to initiate the kiss. She’d done nothing wrong. Even so, she was the one to apologize.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Caro, don’t.” He took her by the shoulders, hoping to give his words more sway. “It was my fault. Mine.”

  “I kissed you back,” she surprised him by replying.

  Did she have to say something like that? For that matter, did she have to look so damned lovely and confused in the flickering light of the fire?

  “It was my fault,” he said again.

  “I don’t believe you forced me.” Her tone was crisp now. God help him, but he liked it, almost as much as he liked seeing the determined arch of her brows. The last thing he wanted was for her to cry. Not only because then he would feel like an even bigger heel than he already did, but because he liked seeing her spunk. Something told him she didn’t exercise it as often as she should.

  She pushed her hair back from her face. A moment ago his fingers had been caught up in that silken mass. They were itching to be th
ere again. He released her shoulders and fisted his hands at his sides to keep from doing something foolish.

  “I didn’t force you, but—”

  “You’re right,” she interrupted. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “We barely know one another,” he agreed, though that was the least of it to his way of thinking.

  She shook her head, swallowed and leveled him with her reply. “Legally, I’m still married, Jake.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CARO STOOD AT THE BEDROOM window early the next morning, and gazed out at the landscape. The inn was in a clearing tucked amid a stand of trees, but rising up beyond them was the distinctive, rocky summit of Camel’s Hump. This day it was covered in white, as was everything as far as Caro’s eyes could see.

  Just after dawn, she’d awoken to the sound of children’s voices and the scampering of small feet. Jillian and Riley were up and running around. She heard the squeak of stair treads and knew they were heading down. They were shooed back up in a moment by their grandmother. Caro had hugged a pillow to her chest as she’d lain in Jake’s big bed listening to their squeals of excitement and their parents’ numerous attempts to shush them. The kids even whispered loud, which made her smile and want to cry at the same time. Cabot whispered loud, too.

  This was what she should be doing. She’d wanted to call her son right then. She didn’t care if she woke up the entire Wendell household in the process, the need was so great. But along with the electrical power, the storm had knocked out the inn’s telephone line. With her cell still not getting a signal, she had no way to reach Cabot. She had no way to reassure him that she would be with him as soon as was humanly possible.

  Mommy, I miss you.

  He’d told her that the day before during their all-too-brief phone conversation. Those four words, uttered in his high pitch, had torn at her heart. Cabot was her focus. He was her life. Which was why long after Riley and Jillian found their Easter baskets, Caro remained in her room upstairs, contemplating the events of the previous night and wondering how they’d happened.

  Jake had kissed her. But what appalled her was not that she had allowed it, but that she’d kissed him back. And with enough passion that they both had been left shaken and aroused.

  She’d forgotten what that kind of desire felt like. Or, maybe, she admitted now, she’d never experienced its like before. Perhaps that was why, even when it hadn’t been wise, she had leaned toward him again and initiated a second kiss, luxuriated in the texture of his mouth and the feel of his hard body pressed against hers.

  She wasn’t free to kiss a man like that, regardless of the state of her marriage and how she felt about Truman. And she certainly wasn’t free to want to do more.

  She pinched her eyes closed now, but it didn’t matter. She could still see Jake’s face when she’d told him she was married.

  His anger, she’d expected. Disbelief, too, given what had just transpired. But she was unprepared for the odd mix of disappointment and betrayal that had passed over his face before his features hardened into an indecipherable mask.

  “You’re not divorced,” he’d said slowly.

  “No. Truman and I are still legally married.”

  “You’re separated then.”

  “We have been. For several months my son and I have been living in an apartment in Montpelier.”

  The rigid set of Jake’s shoulders had relaxed fractionally at the news. “So, you’re in the process of getting divorced.”

  “I was.”

  He shook his head. “What kind of answer is that? Are you getting a divorce?”

  “No.” It was a difficult word to say aloud, nearly as difficult as it was for her to accept. “Jake, I—”

  It was all she managed to get out before he’d held up a hand and stopped her. “Don’t. There’s really nothing more to say, Caro.”

  With that, he’d gone.

  Now, she wasn’t sure how she was going to face him. As it was, she was having a hard time facing herself. But she couldn’t stay in her room all day.

  “Enough with the self-pity,” she murmured, giving the belt of the borrowed robe a yank.

  It was time to see about her clothes, the roads and her car.

  Over the rim of his coffee cup, Jake watched Caro enter the living room. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and her face free of makeup. She was dressed in the wool trousers and cashmere sweater she’d had on the day before. They were a little worse for wear, especially the pants. The snow hadn’t been kind to her dry-clean-only goods. It didn’t matter. She looked beautiful. And out of his league, especially now that he knew she was married.

  He sipped his coffee, grimaced. It wasn’t the strong brew that left such a bitter taste in his mouth. She hadn’t seemed the sort of woman who would lie or cheat. Of course, Miranda had had him fooled, too.

  The children, still clad in their pajamas, ran to where she stood in the doorway. Fueled by sugar and excitement, they talked and all but tripped over one another as they showed her the bounty the Easter Bunny had left for them.

  “Want some of my jelly beans?” Jillian asked. “The pink ones are my favorite. I don’t like the black ones.”

  “The black ones are yucky,” Riley agreed. “You can have all of mine if you want.”

  “I thought you were saving those for me,” Jake said.

  Caro’s gaze connected with his briefly before she glanced away. Her cheeks flushed as she moistened her lips before opening her mouth to speak. Whatever she’d been about to say, she changed her mind.

  “I’ll save you mine, Uncle Jake,” Jillian offered. “Riley can give his to Caro. That will make it fair.”

  Children and fairness. It was a code they lived by. But it was a flawed code. Soon enough they would learn that life wasn’t fair. Such a guarantee wasn’t even possible. If life were fair, Caro would be with her son and husband right now, rather than disturbing Jake’s peace, and Jake would have a child of his own.

  Bonnie called the kids from another room, and they scampered out. Caro remained in the doorway, even though she looked uncomfortable and eager to leave. Perversely, he wanted her to stay.

  “Good morning,” she managed at last.

  “Did you sleep well?” He threw it out as a challenge. He certainly hadn’t. Between the lumpy sofa and his switched-on libido, he’d barely managed to close his eyes before the kids had roused him searching for their baskets.

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  Liar. The dark smudges under her eyes told him otherwise. But he didn’t call her on it.

  She motioned toward the window with a hand whose third finger should have been adorned with a wedding band. “The snow stopped.”

  “Sometime around four.” He knew, because he’d been awake.

  “It’s a new day, full of sunshine and promise.” Yet her smile was uncertain.

  “That’s appropriate since it’s Easter.”

  Hope, rebirth, salvation. That’s what the holiday was about. He hadn’t felt any of those things in a very long time. Nor had he cared. He’d felt dead inside. Defeated.

  For reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, that seemed to be changing.

  “Jake, I want to apologize again,” Caro said. “I wish … I wish things were different.”

  He’d spent too much time on futile wishes. He pushed to his feet and crossed to where she stood. “Look, let’s just forget about it, okay?”

  Her expression remained perplexed, but she nodded slowly.

  “No harm, no foul, Caro. It was just a kiss.”

  As he started for the stairs, Jake wondered if she believed that any more than he did.

  His room was tidy. She’d made the bed, folded the clothes he’d left lying over the chairs. Even though nothing in it belonged to Caro, he swore it bore her stamp. He pulled on fresh jeans and a sweater, shaved and brushed his teeth. Though he didn’t plan to, he settled on the edge of the bed and pulled his journal from the nightstand.

  It had been
nearly a month since he’d written anything in it. He flipped to the page where he’d left off and found a pen.

  Today is Easter. Your grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins are here with me at the inn. Their visit was unexpected. Your cousins are running around downstairs right now, hopped up on sugar and having a ball. You’d be too small to keep up with them. But next year …

  The inn also has its first guest. Her name is Caro Franklin. She has a three-year-old son. She’s so eager to see him she was driving through a nor’easter when her car went off the road.

  His pen stilled and he gazed out the window. She also had a husband she wasn’t so eager to see, but to whom she was returning anyway. She was married and had been separated, but she said there wasn’t going to be a divorce. She’d said he was manipulative.

  And Jake’s first impression of Caro was that she was desperate. He tapped the pen against the page. Something wasn’t adding up.

  Doreen and Bonnie were in the kitchen peeling potatoes when Caro entered. Given the mound of skins in the sink, preparations for the afternoon’s feast were well under way. But that wasn’t why she felt guilty and oddly self-conscious.

  “Good morning,” the women said in unison.

  “Good morning.”

  They hadn’t a clue what had gone on the previous evening, but that didn’t stop Caro from feeling as if the words I kissed Jake were tattooed on her forehead.

  “Are you hungry?” Doreen asked.

  “A little.”

  The older woman set her peeling knife aside. As she wiped her hands on a dish towel, she said, “What would you like for breakfast? We have eggs, bacon, bread for toast and a little leftover coffee cake if you’d prefer something sweet.”

  “The coffee cake sounds good.”

  Caro figured she could manage that herself, but before she could cross to the counter, Doreen was already pulling back the plastic wrap and reaching for a knife.

  “Oh, I can do that,” Caro said. “You don’t need to wait on me.”

  “Nonsense. Go and sit.” Doreen motioned toward the table with the business end of the blade. “You’re company. I won’t hear of it.”