Child by Chance. Tara Quinn Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ sir,” he said then. “You’re right. On all three counts. I’m sorry.”

      “Apology accepted.”

      Kent crunched some more. And Sherman sought to understand the boy.

      Patience was the key. He was certain of that. He just wished he knew what to say sometimes, while he was waiting for patience to work its magic.

      “So...how about that trip to the driving range?” he asked, back to his cheery self, when no other words presented themselves. Clark Vanderpohl and his son were meeting them at the course in less than an hour.

      “Uh-uh.”

      Patience.

      “Why not?” His tone was right on cue. Easy and nonthreatening.

      “You’re only taking me because you have business to do,” he said.

      “That’s not true, son.” He was completely sure about that.

      “So we’re not meeting someone who has something to do with one of your precious campaigns?”

      Kent’s tone wasn’t easy. Or in any way upbeat or even particularly kind. But then, he was only ten.

      Sherman was the adult here. Didn’t matter how much he hurt, too, he had to maintain the order in their lives.

      “I didn’t say that,” he said after giving himself the few seconds pause he needed to choose his response.

      “Ha! See, I knew it.” Kent slurped his milk.

      Brooke would have said something about that. Sherman started to. But pulled himself back.

      “What I said,” Sherman continued, his tone as even as ever, “was that I’m not just taking you because I have business to do. It’s the complete opposite, in fact. I invited Mr. Vanderpohl and his son to join us because I’d already planned to take you to the driving range, as I promised last weekend, and I wasn’t going to disappoint you.”

      Kent came first. He always had.

      “Cole’s going to be there?” Kent’s face lit up as he mentioned the banker’s son.

      “Yes.”

      “Cool!” Picking up his bowl, Kent put it to his lips, emptied it, licked the spoon and then very carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin, put the spoon in the bowl and carried the ensemble over to the sink.

      Some moments he was still pretty much a perfect kid.

      * * *

      HER PALMS WERE SWEATING. Tanner had said she’d be fine. She’d believed him. He was wrong.

      Making a beeline for the teacher’s lounge, Talia made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. And then sat there shaking. She must have the flu.

      Her forehead was cool to her touch.

      But she definitely felt off.

      Emotionally, she was a rock. Could count the number of times she’d cried since she was five.

      Maybe it was something she ate.

      Did that make you shake?

      She could call someone. Sedona.

      Pulling out her cell phone she pictured her new sister-in-law in her legal office, all capable and smart, answering her phone. Asking Talia questions that she wouldn’t want to answer.

      No, calling wasn’t a good idea.

      Kent Paulson, Sherman Paulson’s son, was sitting in the principal’s office, working on his assignments for the week. She was permitted to work with him at any time over the next hour.

      The hour was ticking past.

      He didn’t need her.

      This was about her. Because she wanted to meet him.

      No, that wasn’t right. She just needed to make sure he was okay.

      And if he wasn’t, she’d do what she could to see that he got the help he needed. From someone else.

      As if his artwork was somehow going to give her a glimpse into his little-boy soul and she’d magically know what he needed?

      Or maybe she’d know something instinctively because of who he was?

      Did a woman still get maternal instincts when she gave up her baby for adoption?

      Her stomach roiled and she almost puked again.

      God, what was the matter with her? Nothing scared her.

      Nothing.

      Except maybe when Tatum had been missing. She’d been scared then.

      Because she loved that kid.

      She didn’t love Kent. She couldn’t. She didn’t even know him.

      He wasn’t hers to love.

      It was just going to be art.

      Pictures in old magazines that she’d thought would be suited to a ten-year-old kid. Okay, magazines that Tatum and Sedona and Tanner had gone with her to buy Sunday night when she’d stopped by their place on the way home from work.

      But still, just some pictures. He might not even cooperate.

      Or like her.

      So, fine. If he didn’t like her, that was fine. He didn’t have to like her.

      He just had to pick some damned pictures so she could be sure he was fine.

      She gagged again. But didn’t have any stomach contents to lose.

      This was ridiculous.

      With a good long look at herself in the mirror, Talia bent, rinsed her mouth, pulled a stick of gum out of her mouth and opened the door.

      Maybe he’d like her if she gave him a stick of her gum?

CHAPTER FOUR

      THE FIRST TIME he’d seen Brooke, Sherman had been walking across campus, mentally rehearsing the debate he was about to win. She’d been in the middle of the lush green quad, in shorts and a tank top, lying on a blanket reading a book.

      He’d stumbled. And damned near missed the competition that had ultimately, four years and many debates later, won him a scholarship to graduate school.

      A lot had happened between then and now. Running into her at a concert on campus. Being inseparable for the remainder of their four years of undergraduate studies. Convincing her to put her marketing skills to work in his field and joining him as he signed on with one of the nation’s top campaign management firms.

      Years СКАЧАТЬ