For Love Or Money. Tara Quinn Taylor
the way she looks at him. The way he seems to matter more than even winning a spot on the show...”
He remembered that Thanksgiving Day show—the way the boy had been the one to notice that Janie Young had won...
“He’s lucky that he has her,” Kelsey was saying, her voice soft. “That she loves him so much. And I just...”
He was really starting to get it now. The boy had his mother’s love. Totally. Completely. Something that Kelsey was drawn to be a part of. If she could.
“I feel guilty,” she continued. Blowing his newest theory.
“Guilty?”
“Yeah, because, like, when we win, that means she’s going to lose.” She shrugged again. “We can’t do anything about that, because, you know, there can’t be two winners. So, I was just thinking that where we can help out, we should. You know, with her being the only other local contestant, we’re going to be living in the same town even after the show and might run into her and I just...feel like we should make this as easy on her as we can.”
And maybe, without knowing it, she was drawn to the mother/child closeness? The bonding she was missing?
Burke had no way of knowing. Of predicting what might happen next. Or, apparently, of preventing the disappointment he was convinced he was bringing upon his daughter. One step at a time. He just knew, as he pulled into the small, garage-less drive, that he loved his daughter more than life. And that he was ill-equipped to guarantee her happiness.
* * *
WHAT ON EARTH had she been thinking? Inviting a doctor and his daughter to her tiny house situated in a neighborhood without the community landscape standards that governed most of the neighborhoods in Palm Desert. Her place was clean—well, picked up, at least. But other than the two bedrooms and one bathroom, it had only the L-shaped living and kitchen area. Plenty big enough for just her and Dawson.
She was starting to feel slightly claustrophobic as the time neared for their guests to arrive. Funny—she never felt that way when Cor and Joe were over.
Standing in the opened closet doors at the far end of her kitchen, pulling Dawson’s twin sheets out of the dryer, she watched as her son sat, knees apart and legs crossed at the ankles, on the floor in front of the television, playing the video game Joe had bought him for Christmas. A nonviolent game with a cute little character who had to run and jump and face a lot of challenges on his way to wherever the next level would lead him.
And she wondered how he’d appear to the strangers coming to their home that afternoon. Would they see Dawson for who he was?
“Gah!” Dawson’s rounded shoulders jerked downward, his little neck having to tilt back even farther than normal for him to see the television.
“Gah!” The passion in his voice as he urged his man on made her smile. Just that quickly she was awash with the warmth of love she felt for her little guy. And then assailed with guilt for the thoughts she’d been having. Thoughts of him appearing less than perfect to others. And her caring at all what they thought.
He’d played all of his exercise “games” with her in great humor. Had worked hard to hold on to the large pencil and draw straight lines and then circles on plain paper. And she wanted him relaxed and in a good mood when their guests arrived.
Guests he didn’t yet know about.
Dawson tended to take life as it came. A lesson she tried hard to learn from him.
“Hey, bud, you want to help Mommy make your bed?” It was a long shot with the video-game controller in his hand, but she always asked for his help when doing anything she knew he could attempt.
Washing floors. Dusting.
A lot of the time he joined in happily. Most particularly when she was cleaning bathrooms. He loved swirling the brush around the toilet water.
While his game ran on without him, he looked at her, his mouth hanging open as it so often did.
He grinned at her. She stared at his drool. And wished she’d never invited the Carters over. Had been wondering, since the moment she’d issued the invitation, what on earth she’d been thinking.
Or, more accurately, why she hadn’t been thinking.
Yeah, Dr. Burke Carter was a handsome guy. Maybe the most compelling man she’d ever met.
But she was a mother now. Full time. First and last.
As Dillon had been quick to point out every time he wanted her complete attention and didn’t get it. Which had been at least once a day...
Jumping as the doorbell rang, Janie shook her head.
“Gah!” Dawson, apparently unconcerned by her lack of response to his smile, was back at his game.
Arms still filled with sheets, she stood there. And the bell rang a second time.
“Dooo,” Dawson said, throwing down the control and rolling onto his knees to stand.
Dropping her sheets onto the only armchair in the room, Janie went after him. He’d just learned how to unlock the front door and she didn’t want him running outside in his bare feet.
Nor did she want him facing their inquisitors alone.
She hadn’t even had a chance to wipe his face.
He was her angel.
Perfect in his imperfection.
She would die before she’d have anyone look down on him in his own home.
AS A PHYSICIAN Burke came into contact with people from all walks of life. While he didn’t make house calls, or visit any of his patients at home, he was fully aware that not everyone lived in a neighborhood like his own.
Heck, even as plebeian as it was, Janie Young’s street was nicer than the one he’d grown up on. At least during the two weeks out of a month he’d been with his dad.
He just hadn’t expected the beautiful cook to reside in such a plain place. Weed-spattered hard dirt for a front yard. A porch that could have looked cute with a chair or plant on it.
And...
The door pulled open and she was there...or at least, someone was. It took him a second to realize that the frowning woman opening the door to them was the same perfectly turned-out beauty they’d seen on set the day before.
“Doo!”
Burke glanced down at the husky utterance in time to see Dawson’s backside as he raced away.
Typical toddlers could create havoc without warning. He could just imagine the kinds of things that could crop up with a special-needs child.
“We can come back another time if you’d rather.”
In sweats, a ponytail that was half falling out, and completely bare-faced, the woman didn’t look like she’d been expecting company.
Which was when it hit him that she’d forgotten their appointment.
“Come on, Kels. We can do this another time.” He turned to head back to the car.
“No!” Janie’s voice called out to him, “Really, you’ve come all this way and it’s fine.”
“It wasn’t that far. And we were going to have dinner on this side of town anyway.” He named a family-owned Italian place known around the entire valley for its authentically delicious cuisine.
“Dad!” Kelsey frowned at him. “We were not! We’ve got p—” She stopped. Glanced at Janie. “Well, dinner’s already made,” she finished. And then added, “Besides, this is my only chance to meet Dawson before next Saturday, and if he’s at the studio, I won’t be able