“I’m not, actually. I don’t give you any space in my head, you see. There’s no room for people like you.”

  “People like me? Have you forgotten, Sara, that I’m the father of your children?”

  “Biologically, yes. You were basically a sperm donor. Thanks for that, by the way—and for not one damn thing besides.”

  Zachary’s mouth took on the shape of a slow sexy smile.

  Once, that smile had melted her knees.

  Now it was just smarmy.

  She suppressed a slight shudder. “Why now?” she ventured. “Why this sudden interest in Eric and Hayley, after all this time?”

  Zachary pretended to pull a knife from his chest. “You think I didn’t care about them? About you?”

  “I know you didn’t care,” Sara retorted, careful to keep her voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear. “Fathers who love their children stick around to raise them, or at least lend a hand once in a while. They visit and make phone calls, and remember birthdays and graduations and Christmases. You didn’t do any of those things, and no excuse you can make will change my mind—you were downright negligent, and while Eric may be susceptible to your charms, I assure you, I am not.”

  “Whoa,” Zachary responded, flinching theatrically. The man should have been an actor; he was a born performer. “I didn’t expect a rousing welcome, but I guess I didn’t realize just how much you hate me, either.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Sara corrected him. “I wouldn’t waste my energy doing that.”

  “No second chances?”

  Sara shook her head, kept her spine straight, but not rigid. “I’ve already given you more chances than I should have, and I see no reason to accommodate you now.”

  For the first time, Sara saw anger flare like blue fire in his eyes, and his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “You can’t stop me from spending time with my children, Sara,” he said. “I’m their father, and I have a legal right to see them.”

  “You’re right,” Sara admitted, trying hard not to let her despair show. “I can’t.”

  “So we don’t have a problem.”

  Sara considered her children. Hayley, she knew, would be shy around Zachary, reluctant to see him without her mother or another trusted adult present. Eric, on the other hand, was clearly vulnerable and, from the looks of things, ready to believe his long-lost dad had returned because he wanted to be a father.

  No doubt Zachary had fostered that belief, while he and Eric were communicating behind her back.

  She stifled a burst of anger, collected herself.

  She would have to handle this very carefully; get herself, Hayley and Eric into family therapy, pronto. Eric was already seeing a counselor once a week, so he would probably balk at the idea of more shrink time, as he called it, but there was no other choice, as far as Sara could see.

  As she’d suspected, Eric hadn’t mentioned his brush with the law during their online chats.

  She told Zachary all about it. Admitted she was afraid the boy might go off the rails again, if both she and Zachary didn’t tread lightly.

  They were, after all, in the middle of an emotional minefield, and a single misstep could send Eric hurtling in the wrong direction again, maybe for good this time.

  Zachary listened thoughtfully, and when Sara had finished, he said, “All the more reason for us to cooperate with each other, Sara. Surely you can see that.”

  Sara wanted to cry, but she was damned if she would let this man see her shed a tear. “If you can help,” she said, rather stiffly and with no small measure of doubt, “I’ll be grateful.” She met Zachary’s gaze directly then, and held it. “If, on the other hand, you hurt him, I will make you pay. In spades.”

  Zachary gave a low humorless laugh. “You’ve turned hard,” he said. “You’re not the Sara I remember at all.”

  Sara ignored that. She was a single mother and, even with Eli’s help, she’d had to fight for every inch of progress she’d made, building a solid life for herself and her children.

  So, no. She wasn’t the softheaded romantic she’d been when she and Zachary were together.

  Thank God.

  “Hear me, Zachary,” she said. “Believe me when I say, if you give me cause, if you do anything—anything at all—to harm my children, you will see a side of me you’ve never imagined.”

  He arched one eyebrow, shifted slightly in his chair. “Threats, Sara? I wouldn’t have thought you’d stoop to that.”

  “Not threats, Zachary,” Sara answered. “Promises.”

  Zachary sighed. Got to his feet. “I guess we’ve reached an impasse—for tonight, anyway. Suppose I say goodbye to the kids and head for home?”

  “Good idea,” Sara agreed. “Where is home these days?”

  “I’m back in the ancestral pile,” Zachary said. “It’s been closed up for years, as you probably know, so it’s pretty damn spooky.”

  “Sucks to be you,” Sara replied sweetly.

  Zachary laughed. Glanced in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Eric,” Sara called. “Hayley. Come and say good-night to—our guest, please.”

  Eric reappeared first, looking chagrined, angry and a little pale.

  Hayley followed reluctantly behind him.

  “With your mother’s permission,” Zachary said, probably more for Eli’s benefit than Eric and Hayley’s, “I’ll be in touch tomorrow about our spending the day together.”

  Hayley shrank back a little, and Eli rested his hands gently on the girl’s slender shoulders, silently reassuring her.

  Eric frowned at Sara, visibly braced for a refusal and more than ready to object if one came.

  “We’ll discuss it in the morning,” Sara said, holding her son’s gaze firmly, but speaking as gently as she could. “Tonight, I think we all need to calm down and get a good night’s sleep.”

  Zachary nodded, his face full of false diplomacy. “Good night, kids.”

  “Good night,” Hayley said, in a near whisper, her eyes still wide with confusion.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Eric told Zachary. His tone was belligerent, daring Sara to object.

  “Guess I’ll go along,” Eli said.

  Silently, Sara blessed her brother.

  Eric cast a resentful glance in his uncle’s direction, but he knew a protest would be futile.

  To Sara, that was an encouraging sign.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Eli told Sara as he went out.

  She nodded, mouthed the word thanks.

  When the male contingent had gone, Sara crossed to Hayley, cupped the girl’s cheeks in her hands.

  “You okay, kiddo?” she asked.

  “I guess so,” Hayley said. Tears welled in her lovely eyes. Cornflower blue, like her father’s.

  “Pretty big shock, huh?” Sara dropped her hands to her sides. “Your dad appearing out of nowhere, I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Hayley agreed. “Do I have to spend a whole day with him? My—my dad?”

  “Not if you don’t want to,” Sara said.

  “He can’t force me?”

  “Nobody is going to force you to do anything, sweetheart. Not on my watch—or your uncle Eli’s.”

  Hayley relaxed a little. “Where has he been all this time?” she wanted to know.

  “Good question,” Sara replied. “I have no idea, but I’ll tell you this much—it matters where he’s been, and what he’s been doing. Your uncle can find out everything we need to know about Zachary’s past, and if there’s any reason to think he could possibly harm you or your brother in any way, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get near you.”

  “What do I call him?” Hayley fretted.

  “Let’s not worry about that tonight, sweetheart. Why don’t you get ready for bed? Settle in for the night? I’ll look in on you in a little while.”

  “Can he make me call him Dad?”

  “I’ve already told you, Hayley—you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not where Zachary Worth is concerned, anyway.” Sara leaned forward, planted a quick kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “In the meantime, try not to worry, all right? You won’t have to deal with this alone—and that’s a promise.”

  Hayley sighed, swiped at a stray tear with the back of one hand and nodded. “Okay,” she replied, in a near whisper. Then just before turning to head for her room, “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Sara replied.

  Eric was still outside with his father, the two of them busily weaving their singular psychological threads of resentment and personal angst into a chain of opposition.

  Divide and conquer. That was Zachary’s motto. If he could drive a wedge between Sara and her son, he would do it, not out of any particular animosity—Zachary was far too shallow to sustain any emotion, healthy or otherwise, for very long—but simply because he could.

  To him, it was a game. Something to amuse him in the short term.

  Sara waited out another surge of adrenaline, then marched herself to the kitchen, where she surveyed her wine collection, housed in its special refrigerator under the long counter.

  After a few turbulent moments, she turned and walked away.

  Grabbed a glass from a cupboard, went to the sink and poured herself a dose of cold water. Drank it down.

  She was refilling the glass when she heard the front door open in the near distance. She sat down at her usual place at the table, water glass in hand, and sipped.

  Outside, she heard engines start up.

  Vehicles driving away.

  Eric’s palms struck the other side of the kitchen door hard—but not too hard.

  His face was stormy when he stepped into the room.

  Without speaking, he hauled back a chair, opposite Sara’s, and flung himself onto the seat.

  Sara bit back a smile. It was a lot of work, being a teenager, and she marveled that anyone—child or parent—survived the treacherous passing.

  “I want to see him, Mom,” he blurted out, after a long tempestuous silence. “I want to spend time with my dad.”

  His gaze met hers, full of challenge.

  “Okay,” Sara said.

  Eric’s gray eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t been expecting capitulation, of course. “Okay?” he repeated. “That’s all you have to say?”

  Sara took a few restorative sips from her water glass, savoring the clarity of simple hydration. Then, in her own good time, she replied, “It’s not one one-thousandth of what I have to say, Eric. Most of it can wait, though.”

  “What can’t?” the boy asked, still testy, and now wary, too. “Wait, I mean?”

  “This. You were out of line tonight, making that remark about me going out on a date. And I’m not even going to get into the fact that you’ve been in touch with your father for some time, without my knowledge, because right now, I don’t believe I can be rational about it.”

  Eric flushed, set his jaw. But he didn’t speak.

  “I’m not married to your father, and I haven’t been for many years. I don’t have to explain my personal choices to him or to you, and I will thank you to remember that.”

  “Maybe, once you cool down,” Eric said carefully, “you might see that Dad is a good guy, and want to get back together with him.”

  Sara felt a rush of frustration, and struggled not to show it. Tried to keep her tone moderate, calm. Reasonable.

  “That isn’t going to happen, Eric. Not ever.”

  “You won’t cool down?” This, too, was a challenge, but not an angry one.

  She considered telling a little white lie, saying she’d already gotten her temper under control. Then, as she had with the wine, she dismissed the idea as a bad one.

  “I will,” she said. “Soon.”

  “You must have loved Dad once,” Eric said, wheedling now. The heat had subsided from his face, but his earlobes still pulsed deep pink.

  “I thought I did,” Sara clarified, flinching inwardly at the word Dad. “I was very young when I met your father. I was immature and sheltered and generally not ready for a grown-up relationship.”

  Eric frowned, evidently dissatisfied with her answer. “You won’t even give this a chance?”

  Sara suppressed a sigh. She was so tired.

  And she felt strangely displaced, right there in her own familiar kitchen, seated at the table where she’d eaten at least a thousand meals, across from the man-child she’d conceived and carried to term, nurtured and raised, loved and fought with.

  For the briefest fraction of a second, she was back on the McCall ranch, mounted on a stodgy mare, with J.P. beside her, astride his powerful gelding.

  She felt the fresh kiss of the breeze, the warmth of the sun.

  The jolt that had passed through her as she looked into the man’s eyes.

  Half a heartbeat, and she was back.

  Eric was watching her, waiting for an answer.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get the one he wanted to hear.

  “Even if your—if Zachary—wanted to rekindle an old flame—and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t—I don’t. There’s no going back, Eric, and don’t press me for reasons, because most of them are none of your business.”

  “Are you going to see him again? The guy you were out with tonight?”

  Sara considered that. Smiled.

  “I hope so,” she said, recalling the parking-lot kiss. Tingling a little at the memory, which was visceral.

  Eric’s eyebrows met above the bridge of his nose as he scowled. “Seriously?”

  The contempt in his voice and expression nettled Sara mightily. “Seriously,” she affirmed, without hesitation.

  “Who is he?” Eric demanded.

  “That,” Sara responded, “is no concern of yours.”

  “You know I’ll find out!”

  Sara arched an eyebrow. “So?”

  Once again, Eric was fuming. “You think it’s none of my business who you’re going out with,” he spit out, in a near hiss, “but it is, because you’re my mother, and if you get all involved with some guy, I’ll have to deal with him. And so will Hayley.”

  “I do think it’s none of your business,” she affirmed. “It was one dinner. I’m not sure there will ever be anything for you—or your sister—to deal with.”

  “All these years, you’ve been—well—our mom. You worked at the day care and sometimes you spent time with your friends, or Eli’s, but except for a few lunches and movie dates, you never brought a man into the equation. Now, just when Dad is back in town and we have a shot at being a family, the four of us, you’re seeing somebody?”

  “We are a family, Eric,” Sara pointed out evenly. “You, Hayley and me. We have been all along, and we don’t need your father—or anyone else—to complete the circle.”

  How long, she wondered silently, and with a degree of despair, had her son been yearning for his father to return and fulfill his misguided fantasies about the family of his dreams?

  How sad had he been? How lonely?

  And why hadn’t she noticed?

  Sure, Eric was very good at hiding his emotions, but surely there must have been signs. Signs she’d missed somehow.

  Once again, her heart cracked. Painfully.

  Maybe her friends had been right. Maybe she should have dated actively after the divorce, found a good man, a husband for her, a stepfather for Hayley and Eric.

  Stepfathers got a bad rap sometimes, she reflected. She’d known a number of solid ones, though, grown-up, integrated guys who had married a woman with children and raised those children, loved them as if they’d been their own.

  Because, in their hearts, they had been theirs. Biology be damned.

  Instead of setting out to find one of these admittedly rare men, Sara had braced her spine, jutted out her chin and muscled her way forward, fierce, determined to be strong, independent, two parents in one.

  She’d mostly succeeded, she thought, but that didn’t mean she’d made the right choices, done what was really best for her children or for herself.

  “I’m still your mom,” she told Eric, after the long silence had settled, nearly tangible, between them. “But I’m more than a mom. I’m a person, Eric. Not some life-size cardboard character leaning against a wall, forgotten and gathering dust, whenever you and your sister are off doing your own thing.”

  Eric sighed. His shoulders were hunched. “If you say you have needs, Mom, I will hurl. Right here, right now.”

  Sara laughed, and some of the tension dispelled. “Okay,” she said, with a twinkle in both her eyes and her tone, “I won’t say it.”

  “As Hayley would say,” Eric retorted, almost himself again, “eeewwww!”

  “Go to bed,” Sara said.

  A hesitation. “You won’t stand in my way? You’ll let me see Dad whenever I want?”

  “You’re almost a man, Eric. You have to make your own choices. I’m just hoping you’ll make the right ones.”

  He shoved back his chair, but didn’t rise. Splayed his long graceful fingers and thrust them through his dark hair, rumpling it further. Sighed again, heavily.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Great,” Sara replied. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Uncle Eli came here to see me. Tonight, I mean. I might be in trouble again.”

  Sara, having lapsed into a certain wary complacency only moments before, was on red alert again. “What?”

  When Eric met her eyes, his were glistening with tears he wouldn’t allow himself to shed. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. I know I effed up before, but I’m a law-abiding citizen now, I swear.”

  “What did Eli say?” Sara ventured carefully.

  A familiar litany thumped within her brain like a second heartbeat.

  Not again, not again, not again.

  “Somebody’s been chasing wildlife on four-wheelers,” Eric answered, staring past his mother’s right shoulder as though seeing the scene unfold on the far wall of the kitchen. “Messing with mustangs and deer.”