Accidentally Yours (13 page)

Never
would be plenty of times, he thought grimly. “It’s not a good idea.”

“I busted my butt for this,” Kerri said.

“You told us everyone in Songwood was excited.”

She rolled her eyes. “It was an easy sell, but there’s a lot of work. I’ve been making calls and I have to help with a couple of the floats. Plus finding a car for you to ride in. Oh, Cody wants to be in the car with you. He asked me himself. Is that okay?”

“It would be great press,” one of the associates said. The others agreed. Jason didn’t say anything.

Nathan would have preferred a couple of hours of serious torture to a parade, let alone Nathan King Appreciation Day. It would be press, all right, but not the kind he liked. Every part of him wanted to say no, but how could he throw Kerri’s gift back in her face?

“It could work,” Jason said. “It won’t hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Small town embraces benefactor?”

“Rich bastard buys good press.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t play that way,” Jason said.

“
I
think it’s brilliant,” Kerri grumbled.

“It was very thoughtful,” Jason told her.

She glared at Nathan. “I did it for
you.
”

She had, he thought in surprise. To help. Maybe because she was worried about him. When was the last time someone had worried about him?

“Thank you,” he told her.

“About time.”

“Really. I appreciate it.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“I mean it,” he said.

“All right. You’re welcome.”

Jason looked amused again. “We need to talk about interviews,” he said.

Nathan groaned. “Only a few.”

“Not for you.”

It took him a second to process that. “You’re not feeding Kerri to the press.”

“She can handle it.”

“I can handle it,” she said at the same time.

He ignored Jason. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“So teach me. Don’t you have professionals who give training for interviews? I’m a fast learner. Plus I can talk about Gilliar’s Disease, maybe get people
aware and interested. If more people knew about it, there might be more research.”

Because she was an optimist, she always looked for the bright, shiny, silver lining.

She leaned toward him. “I’ll do great. I’ll probably throw up, but that will be off camera.” Kerri winked at the associates.

He turned back to Jason. “Two interviews at most. One print, one TV. I want a media expert with her at all times and we stop the interview if it gets out of hand.”

Kerri was torn between being happy that she was going to get to defend Nathan and a sudden knot in her stomach at the thought of dealing with any kind of interview. But she knew this was important—Nathan’s future was on the line and she owed him.

They worked out a schedule for her training—apparently it was only supposed to take a couple of hours. She could only hope. Next up was the details for the parade. An hour later, the meeting wrapped up.

Nathan walked her down to the parking garage where she’d left her car.

“Next time I’ll send Tim,” he said as they stood next to her beat-up import. It looked kind of sad in a garage filled with BMWs and Mercedes.

“I don’t mind driving.”

“You don’t need to. What are the odds of you letting me reimburse you for gas?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not necessary.”

If she could harness the sexual hum she felt inside, she might never have to fill her car again.

It was safe to want, she told herself. As long as she didn’t act. Oh, but he tempted her. While he wasn’t anyone she would have thought she wanted, he got her on a primal level.

“We should go to a Mariners game,” he said.

She took a second to catch up with the change of subject. “Okay.”

“With Cody. You said he likes baseball.”

“Like isn’t strong enough. He would love to go to a game.”

“I have a suite.”

She smiled. “Of course you do. Name the date. We’ll be there.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. She wanted to touch his face, smooth away his worries, which was just plain dumb. Who was she to ease anything for a man like Nathan?

“I’m sorry Cody’s in a wheelchair,” he said quietly.

She eyed him. “Thanks. Me, too.”

“I know that hit you hard. You weren’t expecting it.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t happen,” she admitted. “But it did. We’re dealing.”

“He’s strong. He’s fighting the disease.” He looked past her. “It was faster for Daniel.”

Her chest tightened. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I guess it’s different for every kid. It was bad for him. I wasn’t ready for it to happen.”

“Why would you be?”

“Paige, his mother, fell apart when he went into the hospital. She was hysterical. They kept her sedated most of the time. So it was up to me to take care of things. Of him.”

Kerri touched his arm. “That can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t. I worked long hours. I didn’t spend as much time with him as I wanted. As I should have.” He took a step back and shoved both his hands into his slacks. “He was in so much pain. That’s what I remember. At the end, there weren’t enough drugs to help. He was in so much pain.”

His voice vibrated with anguish. She was torn between offering comfort and running away. She didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to know what Cody was up against. But she couldn’t leave. Nathan obviously needed to talk and she needed to listen.

“I told him it was okay to let go,” he said.

She stared. “I don’t understand.”

“I told him it was all right to die. I stood by his bed and told him to let go. So he did. And I’ve always wondered—did I do the right thing? Was it up to me? Did I let him go too soon? Should he have tried? But the pain was too hard to watch.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. “Oh, Nathan,” she breathed. “You did the right thing.”

“How do you know? You weren’t there. What if
he thought I wanted him gone? What if he thought he was too much trouble?”

“No. He wouldn’t. You were his father.”

“I wasn’t anyone he really knew. I practically lived at work. His mother was drugged out and didn’t come to see him the last week. I told him to go. He was everything and I told him to die.”

“What else were you supposed to say?”

“Are you going to tell Cody to go?” he asked bluntly.

She pressed her lips together, unable to answer. They both knew the truth—she would never willingly let her son go.

“The circumstances are different,” she told him.

“No, they’re not. I took the easy way out. Daniel was everything to me and I don’t think he knew that. He sure didn’t know it at the end.”

He was hurting and she couldn’t figure out what to say. Everything about the situation was impossible. But as she reached for him, he backed up.

“I thought you should know,” he said. “What happened. How it was. Why no one gets in.”

Then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the dim parking lot.

T
HE TRIP TO
S
EATTLE
had never seemed so long, Kerri thought. Some of it was Cody’s never-ending “Are we there yet?” There was nothing like the thought of a baseball game to get a sports-loving nine-year-old boy quivering.

“We’ll be nearly there when we cross over the lake,” Kerri reminded him.

“You can see the field from the freeway,” Tim said from his place behind the wheel.

“And Nathan really has his own suite? Just like the owners?”

“That’s what he told me.” Knowing Nathan, it might be nicer than the owner’s suite.

She was happy to answer Cody’s questions. They kept her attention on him and away from her own issues with anticipation. Even though she knew she couldn’t get involved, she wanted to see Nathan again.

Being attracted to him was dangerous in more ways than one. Not only did she have her deal with God, but there was the man himself. Yes, he’d proved to be one of the good guys, but that didn’t mean they
were even remotely on the same planet. He was a billionaire developer. She did hair. They had as much in common as a fish and an armadillo.

Still, as they neared the stadium, she felt her stomach tighten, while other parts of her got very…relaxed. For a successful businessman, he knew how to kiss—something she could appreciate. Along with all the other women in his life, she reminded herself. For all she knew, Nathan was involved.

Then she remembered what he’d said the last time they’d been together. About Daniel’s death. She remembered the pain in his voice when he’d talked about giving his son permission to die. Could he still hurt as much as he did and open his heart to anyone else? She had her doubts. Of course, he didn’t need to be in love to be dating. Or having sex.

She didn’t want to think about Nathan in bed with someone else, so she pointed out various landmarks in the skyline and counted down the miles to Safeco Field.

As they pulled up to the stadium, Kerri had to hold in a laugh. Tim didn’t bother with the parking structure across the street. He just pulled up to let them out.

Kerri grabbed her purse, prepared to slide across the seat.

“I don’t want to use my wheelchair,” her son told her. “I’ll use crutches.”

Kerri glanced up at the massive structure. “It’s a long way to go.”

“I don’t care.” Cody’s expression turned stubborn. “I won’t use the chair.”

The passenger door opened. “Ready for a great game?” Nathan asked.

Cody shook his head. “I won’t use my chair.”

Kerri knew there were a dozen ways to handle the situation, but which one was best? She didn’t want to start the day with a big fight, but she wasn’t happy about just giving in. There was the reality of Cody’s lack of strength. What if he couldn’t make the long trip?

Nathan helped her out of the car. “Did you bring crutches?” he asked the boy.

“Uh-huh. I’m fine.”

“I know that. I’ve seen you. But it’s a long way to the suite. Why don’t you use your chair until we’re close, then change to your crutches to get into the suite? It’ll be easier to maneuver that way.”

“That would be okay,” Cody said slowly. “I don’t want to be a total cripple, you know?”

“I know.”

Kerri fought against the sudden rush of emotion, feeling grateful for the compromise and aching for her son and his pain. There were so many difficult decisions and hard conversations. How could she be sure she got them all right?

Tim was already waiting with the wheelchair. Kerri grabbed the crutches they’d brought to help Cody get around in the suite. Nathan bent down and scooped Cody into his arms. He straightened, then staggered.

“You should have warned me he was so big,” he told Kerri. He staggered again. “I think I just broke my back.”

Cody giggled. “I’m bigger than I look.”

“Yes, you are. Much bigger. Practically a line-backer. Tim, do we have the number of that chiropractor?” He staggered a little more, heading toward the wheelchair. Cody was still laughing when he was placed on the seat.

Kerri watched them both. She appreciated that Nathan was making the effort with her son, but how much better would things be if that weren’t necessary? If Cody could be well and live like other kids?

A miracle, God,
she prayed silently.
I’m asking for a miracle.

Cody moved the chair forward, leading the way to the elevator. Kerri hung back a little.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I know this is hard for you. Being around Cody.”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s good. Like today.” He smiled at her. “Thank you for coming.”

“How could we refuse?”

Their gazes locked. The rest of the world seemed to blur and fade until there was only this man who had carried her son so easily and confidently. What would it be like to have someone to lean on? she wondered. To not do it all herself?

Dangerous thoughts.

They went up to the suite. Cody struggled to his feet, then reached for the crutches. Nathan held open the door. Kerri waited until her son had gone in before she moved into the suite. Only to find it filled with people.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect. The plush seats, buffet and bar seemed par for the course, but the crowd was a surprise. Cody yelled out a greeting to Brandon. Kerri saw Michelle talking with another woman. There were about a dozen other children, several adults and a clown making balloon animals.

Kerri turned to Nathan. “It’s a party,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound disappointed. Until that moment she hadn’t realized she’d expected to spend time alone with him.

“I thought Cody would have more fun with one of his friends here, so I contacted Michelle and asked her if she wanted to bring Brandon. Then I realized a few more kids wouldn’t hurt. The ones here are living in a shelter. There are a few parents along with some people from the press. I’ll be doing the interviews, not you. Don’t worry.”

“I won’t.”

She reminded herself that Nathan was a man on a mission. Nothing about their relationship was supposed to be personal.

She walked over to Michelle. Brandon’s mother grinned.

“If Don and I ever break up, I want to date Nathan King.”

Kerri laughed. “We’re not dating, remember. This is about his donation.”

“Uh-huh. He’s still really good-looking. And rich. Rich buys a lot.”

“You know what they say. People who marry for money earn every penny. You couldn’t stand that.”

“I know, but it’s fun to daydream about.” Michelle watched the boys. “Cody’s looking better.”

“I know. I think maybe using the chair is allowing him to conserve his strength. He doesn’t seem so exhausted at the end of the day.”

“Which is what you want.” Michelle pointed out the large windows overlooking the field. “I think this is a better view than on TV. You have to admit, the man knows how to live.”

Kerri nodded, but she was remembering what Nathan had said about not caring anymore. How no one got in…ever. That didn’t sound like the words of a man content with his place in the world.

One of the women from the shelter came up and introduced herself and the three of them started talking. A few minutes later, a man walked over to Kerri.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Grant Pryor. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Kerri said, knowing the name was familiar but unable to place it. “You’re a friend of Nathan’s?”

“I’ve known him for years. You’re Cody’s mom, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve done a little research on Gilliar’s Disease. It’s devastating.”

He had no idea, she thought. No one could. Not without living through it—knowing your child was going to die horribly and that there was nothing you could do about it.

“It’s not something I’d wish on anyone,” she said.

“It’s nearly an orphan disease, isn’t it?”

“Close, but we have more children sick than that. A disease is considered an orphan disease when there are less than ten thousand afflicted.”

Grant smiled. “You know your stuff.”

“I’ve done a lot of research.”

“Is the best work being done here?”

“Up in Songwood. Dr. Abram Wallace is leading a team there.”

“Hasn’t he been doing that for years? Shouldn’t there be a cure by now?”

“It’s not that easy. There were complications,” Kerri said, not comfortable with all the questions.

“But now you have funding. At least that’s what I’ve read. What did Nathan King donate? Fifteen million?”

Kerri nodded.

“Kind of cheap, if you ask me,” Grant said. “His son died of the disease. Shouldn’t he be giving more? He’s worth much more. It’s like you or I giving five bucks.”

This conversation was starting to sound off. “Who are you?” Kerri asked.

“Someone interested in a lot of things. You’re remarkably forgiving. I don’t think I would be. After all, you had to blackmail him into donating that much.”

Her memory kicked in and she took a step back. “You’re that reporter.”

“I am.”

Kerri felt both used and set up. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Then I’ll talk. Don’t you think it’s interesting that his own sister hates him? Nathan isn’t a good man, Ms. Sullivan. He’s a bastard who uses people and right now he’s using you.”

“So you two have that in common,” she said bitterly, wanting to escape but not comfortable leaving the suite.

“Maybe, but I’m just doing my job. He’s profiting from your pain.”

She turned to leave, but Grant grabbed her arm. “Are you sleeping with him? Was that part of the deal? You’re whoring yourself for your son’s cause? How much more are you willing to do to find a cure? What if I had the answers? Would you sleep with me?”

Kerri didn’t know if she should slap him or throw her drink in his face. Then Tim was there, casually grabbing Grant’s arm and twisting it behind his back.

“It’s time for you to leave,” the driver said.

“Easy,” Grant told him. “You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands.”

Tim ignored that and pushed the man to the door. Kerri turned away, staring at the field but not seeing the activity below.

“I’m sorry about that.” Nathan came up behind her. “I keep forgetting that other people consider Grant Pryor legitimate press. He shouldn’t have been here. Are you all right?”

She put down her drink because she was shaking too much to hold it without spilling. “I’ll recover.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing earth-shattering. I just wasn’t expecting the attack. He has it out for you,” she said.

“I know. You want something to eat? Or we could go walk around for a few minutes to give you a chance to catch your breath.”

She shook her head. Grant was nothing but an opportunist, she told herself. A weasel. But there had been some truth buried in the ugliness

“Why didn’t you do something?” she asked Nathan. “Other people lose children to tragedy and they use that as an opportunity to change the world. Mothers Against Drunk Drivers. AMBER Alerts. America’s Most Wanted. You have more resources than most, but you didn’t do anything. You could have fixed this already. If you’d wanted to, Gilliar’s Disease would be a thing of the past.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“That’s what I told Grant. But why isn’t it that simple? You weren’t even trying. I had to trick you
into helping. I think it’s because you were telling the truth, the first time we met at the restaurant. That your kid was already dead so why should you care about mine. Cody could have been okay. We could be done with this. You had a responsibility to help.”

“Why?” His voice was bitter. “Why should I have to help anyone else? Daniel is dead.”

“Because that’s what we’re supposed to do. Be more than our circumstances. Think about other people.”

“Maybe I don’t give a damn about other people.”

“Not any of us?” she asked, when the real question was,
Not me?

Before he could answer, she heard a sharp cry. Cody lay on the floor of the suite, his leg twisted at an unnatural-looking angle, his mouth tight with pain.

A
FTER
D
ANIEL HAD DIED
Nathan had vowed that nothing would ever get him into a hospital again. Yet here he was, making his second trip in less than two weeks.

An ambulance had rushed Cody, Kerri and himself to Children’s. Cody had been taken for X-rays, although it was obvious what had happened.

“I hate this,” Kerri muttered as she paced in the waiting area. The doctor had asked her to wait while they took Cody to radiology and her son had agreed, claiming he was fine.

Now Kerri clutched her hands together so tightly Nathan thought she might break a bone, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling out of place and useless.

She turned on him. “About what? That he broke his leg? That he’s still alive?”

He didn’t react to her attack. “That both of you have to go through this.”

Her blue eyes were bright with anger. “My son isn’t going to die. Just so we’re clear. I’m not giving up on him.”

It was like she’d shot him. He turned and walked away, knowing it wasn’t a fight he could win.

Had he given up on Daniel? He’d always agonized about doing the right thing. Had he given up too easily? Had he pushed his child closer to death to spare himself more suffering?

He turned a corner, then sank onto a bench. Present and past blurred and he was caught up in the memory of another hospital and another boy in pain. He remembered how tightly Daniel had clung to his hand, how the boy had begged him not to leave.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

So he’d stayed, because Paige couldn’t and there wasn’t anyone else. And in those last days, he’d gotten to know the boy and mourn the man he would never be.

That was the worst of it, he admitted to himself. That it was only as his son lay dying that they had finally gotten to know each other. It had been too little, too late.

A soft giggle drew him back to the present. He looked up and saw a pretty little girl walking down
the corridor, dragging an IV with her. She had a teddy bear nearly as big as herself in her arms. A glittering sticker of a fairy twinkled from one cheek and a bright pink scarf covered her head.