“I wanted to call you and Duncan first,” Cameron confessed. Through the years the three of them had grown closer after their parents’ divorce, and even more so after the debacles concerning his and his older brother’s love life.

  “Take a picture with your BlackBerry and send it to me. I can’t wait until we can see him.”

  “It might be a couple of weeks. I want Joshua to get used to me first.”

  “That means you’re planning on taking him with you?” Duncan asked.

  “Yes.” Cameron stared down at Joshua. “I’ve lost enough time with my son.”

  “What about Caitlin?” Faith asked quietly.

  “Perhaps it’s time she knew how it feels to be separated from your child.”

  “Cameron, I know you’re upset and you have a right to be, but you can’t separate a child that age from his mother,” Faith said. “He has to be a little over four.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t even know his birthday.”

  “You will, but Joshua comes first,” Duncan said. “We were adults when Mom and Dad divorced, and it still took the wind out of us.”

  They’d hurt for their father who still loved their mother. She, on the other hand, wanted her freedom and had moved to New York. Four months later, she’d married an architect. They’d feared for their father’s sanity until he’d taken up competitive bass fishing. “Don’t worry. I’ll think things through before I make a move.”

  “I know. You’re cool on or off the track,” Duncan said.

  Except when it came to Caitlin. “Good night. I’m going to call Mom and Dad and let them know they’re grandparents.”

  Cameron hung up the phone and dialed. His father answered his cell on the fourth ring. “Hi, Dad. Christmas came early this year.”

  Cameron smelled coffee. His eyelids flickered, then opened. He glanced at his wristwatch and frowned. It was 6:05 A.M. Caitlin wasn’t an early riser and wasn’t much of a coffee drinker. On the other hand, he had to have his shot of caffeine in the morning. One cup loaded with cream and sugar and he was good to go. And on race day he was up by six and in the garage an hour later with his team checking over the car.

  Adjusting the covers over Joshua, who was sprawled on his stomach, Cameron brushed a kiss across his forehead and left the room. In the hallway, he paused in front of Caitlin’s door. He’d caught a glimpse inside the room last night. Soft peach and beige tones, a wide bed with lots of pillows.

  If he let himself think about her in that bed or who might have joined her in it, he’d lose it. Just because he hadn’t slept with another woman didn’t mean she’d been by herself all these years. He’d let that stay in the past. Joshua was what was important now.

  Not wanting to open the door any further, he rapped on the doorframe. He just hoped she wasn’t wearing one of those short thin silk gowns she’d preferred when they were living together. Mornings were always tough enough without seeing those long silky legs and recalling them wrapped around his waist as he wrung cries of pleasure from her.

  “Cameron.”

  He whirled. Caitlin stood less than ten feet away dressed in jeans and a soft cotton top. She was covered from her neck to her toes. He tried to tell himself he was pleased. She certainly wasn’t. She wore that same weary expression she had last night.

  She had good cause.

  “I figured you’d want to talk before you left. I made coffee.”

  She was trying to be civil and he was trying hard to forget the soft, fragrant skin he’d loved to kiss and taste under the slim-fitting jeans and white tee. More than the coffee, he’d liked making love to her in the mornings. His body stirred as if it were yesterday instead of five years since they’d made love.

  Moistening her lips, she glanced away. Apparently he wasn’t the only one dealing with memories best forgotten. “Thanks.”

  Nodding, she turned and went back down the hall. He followed, his gaze dropping to the denim cupping her hips, the feminine sway of her body. His hands clenched. He jerked his gaze upward, but not before he recalled his hands cupping her hips as he surged into her moist heat.

  In the kitchen, she waved him to the round table for four. He practically dove into the cushioned seat. His jeans were too tight in the wrong place. He looked around the spacious, ultramodern room to clear his mind.

  A blue mug trailing tendrils of steam was set in front of him. Instead of sitting at the table, she leaned one hip against the bar stool at the end of the counter. The seat of the stool next to hers was built up five inches higher. The fabric matched. She caught him staring at the stool.

  “Joshua likes sitting with me so I had the seat built up.”

  “You seem to have done very well for yourself.” She’d been a struggling travel writer when they’d first met.

  “I write a syndicated cartoon script,” she said proudly. “I have a home office so I can spend more time with Joshua. He’s on a soccer team, in the children’s choir at church.”

  He folded his arms. He knew she was pointing out how she’d provided for Joshua and how disruptive taking him would be. “He sounds busy.”

  “Busy and happy. I can provide everything he needs,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

  “You seem to have forgotten one thing.”

  She eased away from the stool. “I did what I thought best for Joshua. Don’t use him to get back at me.”

  He came out of his seat in one controlled rush. “Use him? If anyone has used him, it’s you. You’ve selfishly kept him from his father because of your fears. You didn’t think what was best for him, just what you wanted.”

  “He’s safe with me.”

  “Then why was he in the emergency room last night?”

  She gasped.

  He saw the hurt flash in her eyes and clenched his hands to keep from reaching out to comfort her. “You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.”

  “You can’t take him from me!”

  “You mean I can’t be as cold and callous as you? What if I took him for four years?”

  Her arms circled her waist. “I did what I thought was best.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “Please, Cameron.”

  “Have Joshua ready by nine in the morning to go with me. I’ll be more generous than you were, but only for Joshua’s sake. You can come if you want, but I won’t be denied my son.”

  “You can’t just take him!” she cried.

  “I can and I will. Defy me or try to run, and you’ll regret it,” he said, his voice a cold promise. “I’m not without contacts and I’ll use every one of them to obtain permanent and total custody.”

  Caitlin sank down on the bar stool, tears misting her eyes. “Don’t do this.”

  “You’ve left me no choice. Have my son ready or else.” He walked from the room and out the front door. He shut his eyes, but he couldn’t get Caitlin’s shattered look out of his mind. He’d played hardball, but he didn’t have a choice.

  Obviously she had the financial means to run. If she did that he might never see his son again. She’d disappeared once. He’d initially tried to find her for about four weeks, then, with his pride in tatters, he’d accepted she didn’t want him and tried to put his life back together.

  Outside, he started for the entry gate. His car was coming for him. He’d called Frank, his motor coach driver who doubled as his gas man, to come pick him up.

  He’d gone only a few feet before he realized he needed a code for the car to enter the gated housing development. Turning around and going back to ask Caitlin was out of the question. The pedestrian access gate was probably coded as well. Scaling the ten foot fence was impossible.

  As he pondered the situation, a car leaving the development passed him. Knowing the gate would open, Cameron increased his pace and managed to slip through the gate behind the car just as his driver pulled up in Cameron’s black Chevy truck.

  On the track Cameron drove a modified Chevrolet Monte Carlo stock race car, one of the four types of stock cars sanctioned by NASCAR. Out of loyalty, and because he liked the way they handled, he’d purchased the same make for his personal use.

  Climbing inside the black Silverado, he spoke to the driver. “Morning, Frank. Thanks for picking me up.”

  “You all right, Cameron?” Frank asked, his questioning gaze on Cameron.

  Last night Cameron had had to practically threaten Frank for him to leave Cameron at the hospital. Frank was a good man and a friend. Taking care of Cameron was a responsibility he took very seriously on race weekends. “Nope, but I will be. Wake me when we get to the garage.” Leaning his head back against the supple leather, Cameron closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the coming race, and not the tears in Caitlin’s eyes.

  Cameron planned on taking her baby away from her. She had to leave before Cameron returned. The sound of the front door closing had barely faded before she rushed to her bedroom and pulled out her suitcase. She had enough money, could do her comic strip from anywhere in the world.

  Her hands were trembling as she blindly tossed undergarments in the direction of the open suitcase on the bed. She was reaching for an armful of clothes when Cameron’s ominous words came back to her.

  “What if I took him from you for four years?”

  Shutting her eyes tightly, she clamped her fists, hung her head. If she ran and was caught, she’d lose Joshua.

  Cameron would come after her, and then his fury would know no bounds. Yet, even if by some miracle she did manage not to be found, what kind of life would that be for Joshua?

  She couldn’t even put him in school, have his friends over. They’d live in secrecy. Joshua was too outgoing for that type of life, and she wasn’t about to punish him for her lapse in judgment in loving the wrong man.

  Opening her eyes, she went to her son’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. No, that wasn’t being fair. Cameron was a kind, loving man. It was his profession that she couldn’t accept, and he loved racing too much to give it up. They had an impossible situation, one that she didn’t see the answer to now any more than she had five years ago when she’d made the most heart-wrenching decision of her life.

  She’d noticed him the moment she entered the lobby of the Casa de la Serenidad hotel in Santa Fe. He’d been wearing tobacco-brown slacks, a white shirt, and a wheat-colored sports coat. Since he was behind the desk when she checked in, she thought he was there on business.

  She’d been struck by his striking good looks, and laughing black eyes that sent goose bumps skipping up her arms when he’d introduced himself. He’d offered to show her Santa Fe for the travel article she was writing.

  She’d been half in love with him before he took her out to dinner that night at his best friend’s restaurant, the Red Cactus. She had no idea he raced stock cars.

  By the time she found out, she loved him too much to walk away. She prayed it would work out, but it wasn’t to be.

  She’d kept track of Cameron through the years. She’d told herself that it was to know where he was at all times. She’d even cut out newspaper clippings, his picture on cereal boxes. When Joshua was an adult in a nice, safe job, she planned to give him the scrap-books about his father.

  That wouldn’t be necessary now. He’d have the real thing.

  Her lower lip caught between her teeth, she stared down at her son. He was oblivious to the changes about to happen in his life. All she could do was to be there for him. He’d be ecstatic to learn he had a father. His best friend, Stephen, and Stephen’s dad were close, and often included Joshua on their outings. Every time afterward Joshua would come home and talk about wanting his own dad.

  He now had one.

  She brushed her hand over Joshua’s head. He wanted a father more than any games or toys on the market. She hadn’t wanted to tell him his father was dead or that he didn’t want him in his life. So she’d settled for a half-truth: they’d separated and his father didn’t know how to find them.

  Her lips curved into a sad smile on recalling Joshua’s coming to her that very afternoon with her suitcase. He wanted them to pack and go search for his father. It had taken a long time to convince him that that was impossible. She’d never forget the sadness in his face.

  He’d be happy to learn his father had found him. The problem was, the father didn’t want the mother.

  Mike, his crew chief, met Cameron at the side door of the hauler later that afternoon. He took one look at Cameron’s tight-lipped face and jerked his head toward the back room of the hauler where everything from a soft drink, to downtime, to a driver being chewed out, was conducted. They wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard.

  Mike faced Cameron as soon as he closed the door behind them. “You’re sure you’re all right? What’s going on? It’s not like you to stay ou—”

  “I was with Caitlin.”

  Shock lifted jet-black eyebrows. There was total, dead silence, then a muttered curse word Mike didn’t even try to hold back, which showed his displeasure. NASCAR was a family sport. Profanity brought a hefty fine or suspension. Since no one wanted that to happen they all tended to watch what they said even when off the track or in private.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yes,” Cameron answered, and knew it was the truth. When Caitlin had left him at the altar he’d been hurt, stunned. He hadn’t cared what people thought, he just cared about locating Caitlin and fixing whatever the problem was.

  He hadn’t found her and by the time race season began in February he was neck deep in anger and bordering on depression. He’d lost race after race, went from being the team member with the most wins to having the least. He’d dropped like a rock in the standings.

  For the first time since his rookie year, he hadn’t had a snowball’s chance in hell of finishing in the top ten at the end of the race season, which meant he was out of contention for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship when that was to have been his year. The year before, he’d finished second in the series.

  Hilliard had fired him after the fifteenth straight race of not making it into the top twenty. Cameron had understood. In the past, he’d consistently finished in the top ten. When Cameron had come in twenty-ninth at the Dover International Speedway, his worst showing since he began racing, he had known he would be let go.

  He couldn’t even blame it on the track—concrete and bumpy—four hundred miles of grueling race on the “Monster Mile.” He’d won there the year before. Hilliard had been waiting for him when he’d climbed out of the stock car. He didn’t even have to say a word, just started walking toward the hauler. Tied and exhausted and angry, Cameron followed.

  Hilliard had chewed him out then cut him. “We don’t need dead weight.” His being fired had capped off a piss-poor day.

  Embarrassed, hurt because Hilliard’s voice had been loud and had carried, Cameron had left the hauler and gone to his motor coach, slamming the door. He’d grabbed one of Frank’s beers instead of his usual Gatorade. Racing was his life. No, that was Caitlin.

  And he’d lost both.

  He hadn’t even heard the door open, but Duncan and Faith had been there. It hadn’t taken much to get the story out of him.

  He’d lost Caitlin; he hadn’t known how he’d go on if he couldn’t race. Duncan had suggested mortgaging his ranch to sponsor him. Faith said the same about the family-owned hotel, Casa de la Serenidad.

  He’d vetoed both ideas, thought it was over. But an hour after they’d left Hilliard had knocked on his door, saying he’d changed his mind. He’d give him one more try, but he had to come in no lower than twentieth.

  The next race was at Pocono Raceway, one of the most difficult raceways because of the many adjustments of speed needed on the course. Coming down the front straightaway, cars easily reached two hundred miles per hour. Cameron had never won there. His best had been twelfth when he was hitting on all cylinders. The last time he’d been there, he and Caitlin had sneaked away to the Pocono Mountains for a lazy, fun-filled afternoon. He’d be fighting memories and fighting for his career.

  Hilliard wasn’t known for changing his mind. He was fair, but he didn’t give second chances.

  “Twentieth it is,” Cameron said.

  Hilliard had looked at him out of eyes blue as a sky but which could turn cold as icicles. Cameron had known that was his last chance. He’d come in nineteenth and hadn’t looked back.

  Caitlin could never be his. He couldn’t make her happy. The truth of that would burn a hole in his stomach if he’d let it.

  “Yeah,” Cameron repeated to Mike, knowing he wouldn’t allow Caitlin to ruin his career again.

  A brief knock sounded on the door. “The ceremony starts in ten minutes. You’re needed on the field, Cameron,” Hope said through the door. Besides Hilliard, she was the only one with enough guts to disturb the two.

  Mike eyed Cameron, searched his face. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” Cameron smiled. “Let’s go kick some serious behinds and win this race.”

  Mike’s wide grin split his olive-colored face. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Chapter 4

  Caitlin never thought she’d do this. Her hand trembled as she pressed the remote. The black screen filled with the color and sounds of two hundred thousand cheering fans at the California Speedway.

  Too easily she recalled the smell of gasoline and burned rubber, the revving motors in the garage area trying to get the best out of the race cars, the noise of the frenzied crowd as they cheered their favorite driver or booed the driver who came too near their favorite.

  The camera left the grandstand and panned in for a close-up of a driver. Her trembling hand clenched.

  “Mommy, that’s Cameron,” Joshua cried, scrambling out of his seat next to her on the sofa to stand in front of the thirty-six-inch television screen.