At the Millionaire's Request Page 2

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  Evelyn glanced at the man across from her. “M.J., you remember Gavin Spencer. He tells me he helped you break up the fight in your classroom.”

  “How’s your cheek?” Gavin met her gaze.

  She resisted the urge to touch the bruise that was in a colorful state of healing—and none of the colors were especially flattering to her skin tone. “It’s fine. And, yes, I remember him.”

  It would take a case of amnesia to forget Gavin Spencer. The man was tall and tanned and sinfully handsome. His almost black eyes snapped with intensity and his powerful, muscular body seemed to hum with tension and harnessed energy. His ride-to-the-rescue manner had unnerved her, along with his gentle touch. The heat of his fingers had seared a path clear through her.

  Off balance, she’d answered his questions when normally she’d have clammed up. Clearly he had the power to get to her and she didn’t like it. No man would get to her again—and she especially didn’t trust one as glib and charming as Gavin Spencer. Charm and wit hid a multitude of sins. She was still paying the mortgage on that lesson, too.

  “That school—” Her mother shuddered visibly. “It has the worst reputation in the district. I worry the whole time she’s subbing.”

  “Mom—”

  “I don’t know why she insisted on taking an assignment there.”

  “Mom, don’t start.”

  “It’s no wonder they can’t find subs for that campus.”

  “It’s not that bad,” she protested. But when she met Gavin’s gaze, there was something predatory in his dark eyes, something warning that he’d use the information against her if he got the chance.

  “Not that bad?” Evelyn heaved a huge sigh as she shook her blond head. “So you like getting between teenage boys with more testosterone than brains?”

  M.J. glared at Gavin. Unable to hide it from her mother, she’d glossed over the cause of the cheek bruise. But he’d obviously filled in the blanks and she really wished he hadn’t. “At school kids would call you a narc.”

  “Nice.”

  “Not so much. You ratted me out to my mother.”

  “Don’t be mad at him,” Evelyn protested. “We were simply chatting and he assumed I knew the particulars.”

  M.J. realized something bothered her more than the fact that he’d given her mother the ugly details. It was that he was here at all. How did he know where she lived? Why did he think her answer to his offer would be any different this time? She had no illusions that he was here for any other reason. She was an un-remarkable woman, not the sort who inspired to-the-ends-of-the-earth passion in a man like him. He wouldn’t notice her unless he wanted something only she could give. That was annoying enough, but even worse was that on some level it mattered to her.

  But that was her problem and she would deal with it as she always did. On her own. All the same, she couldn’t help being the tiniest bit grateful to have her mother here. When he asked again and she told him no again, she wouldn’t be alone with him.

  The thought had barely formed when Evelyn looked at the clock on the wall above the table and jumped up. “Good heavens, look at the time. I’m going to be late for the movie.”

  “Wait, Mom—”

  “I can’t. Mr. Spencer arrived just as Aunt Lil and I were on our way out the door. I sent her on ahead and told her to buy the tickets. You know how she hates to not be settled when the lights go down.”

  “But, Mom, I—”

  Evelyn kissed her cheek. “See you later, sweetie. Nice to meet you, Mr. Spencer.”

  Before M.J. could say “boo,” she was facing him alone. And she didn’t particularly like it. He was too big, too good-looking, too dark and too persuasive. Too everything. And that made M.J. too nervous.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’d like to finish our conversation from the other day.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s finished.”

  “I’d like the opportunity to change your mind.”

  “You’re wasting your time.”

  “It’s my time.”

  “You can’t change my mind,” she warned.

  “I don’t believe that, Ms. Taylor.” M.J. had the uncomfortable feeling that the sheer force of his personality could make people do things against their will. But not in her case. After Brian died, she’d really tried to continue her work in speech therapy. But it simply hurt her heart too much to be around younger children. That made her hold back, avoid connecting. Protecting herself kept her from doing the job the way it should be done. She was no good to the kids now.

  M.J. decided to change the subject. “How did you know where I live?”

  “I didn’t follow you.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He lifted one broad shoulder in a casual shrug. “This is the electronic age. With computer technology you can find anyone with very little information.”

  That was true. In this age of technology, it was pretty hard to hide. Not that she was. But still…“This feels very much like an invasion of my privacy. But you don’t strike me as the sort of man who worries very much about breaking rules.”

  “A father has to do what a father has to do,” he said, arrogant enough not to deny it.

  In spite of his arrogance, she had a glimmer of respect for his parental determination, but then her own protective shields went back up. “And what is it you think you’re doing?”

  “Whatever I have to do to help my son. He’s six years old.”

  Her chest tightened, as if a hand had reached inside and squeezed her heart. The crushing pain made it a struggle to catch her breath. Her son would have been six now.

  She sucked in air. “I already told you, I don’t work with children.”

  “The other day you said teens are children, too.”

  This was a bad time to learn she’d been right about him collecting information to store up and use against her.

  “High school doesn’t count,” she said defensively. Then she watched his dark eyebrows go up questioningly. She huffed out a breath. “Okay, technically they’re children until eighteen. But high school kids are more like adults with impulse control issues.”

  “Look, let’s stop splitting hairs. You need the work.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she countered.

  He stood and his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “Here’s what I know. You have a reputation as a gifted children’s speech pathologist. Sean’s teacher and his doctor tell me you’re a miracle worker and have a proven track record in getting results from children like my son. But you turned your back on a career—”

  “You don’t have any idea—”

  “I don’t have to.” He held up a hand. “I’m a father. I’d slay dragons and storm fortresses if it would return my son to the way he was before the accident. I can’t help him, but you can.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “I don’t buy that. You got positive results in the past. Why not now?”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  “No. That’s true. But the fact is I’m not giving up until I get one.”

  M.J. recognized the determination on his dark features. How dare he back her into a corner? Why wouldn’t he just take no for an answer? Anger blazed through her. She was furious that he was putting her through this. She wanted him out of her house. And he might even leave. This time. But he’d be back. He had determination written all over him or he wouldn’t be here now. Somehow M.J. was aware that he wouldn’t leave her alone until he knew the reason she could no longer handle the job she’d once loved.

  “An explanation?” She took a deep breath. “It’s called survival, Mr. Spencer. I simply can’t get wrapped up in a child. And that’s what it takes to reach them. It’s about dedication and focus. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have the heart. My son took it with him when he died.”

  Chapter Two

  Gavin had no idea what he’d expected her to say, but that wasn’t it. Now he didn’t know what to say. Looking at the suffering in her eyes was like staring into a bottomless pool of pain.

  If the antique oak table wasn’t between them, he was afraid he’d have taken her in his arms. “Look, M.J., I know how you feel—”

  “No, Gavin.” Her voice was brittle, as if she could shatter at any moment. She gripped the curved back of the oak chair in front of her until her knuckles turned white. “You couldn’t possibly understand how I feel because you still have your son.”

  She was right. Sean’s accident had opened a very small window into what it would have been like to lose him, but fortunately it slammed shut and he still had his boy. Any comfort he could offer seemed pathetically inadequate, however sincere.

  So he didn’t offer any. “What happened to him?”

  “Brian,” she said. “His name was Brian.”

  “Brian.” He nodded. “Tell me about him.”

  A small smile touched her lips. “He was a sweet boy. Quiet. Sensitive. Smart.”

  “Was he ill?”

  Something in her expression said that would almost have been easier. “He was hit by a car. He ran out into the street after his ball. The driver couldn’t stop in time.”

  Gavin nodded as the thought hovered in his mind.

  Who was watching him? But he couldn’t ask. It was an accident. And he’d bet ever since it happened she’d been asking herself enough questions when she wasn’t torturing herself with “if onlys.”

  That was something he could understand. If only Sean hadn’t fallen on the rocks. If only he hadn’t hit his head. If only… Sean could be his normal, active self.

  But he couldn’t. That’s why Gavin was here. “It must be a comfort to have your mother. And Brian’s father—”

  For an instant her mouth tightened and something hot and harsh flashed through her eyes. “My husband died less than six months later. He wasn’t ill, either,” she said. “Car accident.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words came out before he could stop them.

  Fate really had her in its crosshairs and her expression said sorry didn’t begin to help. It also made him think that there was much more she wasn’t saying. Any or all of which was none of his business. Not that he didn’t care. He wasn’t a heartless bastard. But he wasn’t here to rub her nose in the pain or to make her feel bad about the devastating losses she’d endured. His purpose was to secure the help his son needed to get his life back.

  “Look, M.J., you’re right. I have no idea how you feel. I can’t begin to understand. And, to be brutally frank, I don’t want to know. I came dangerously close to losing my son and that was enough.”

  “I’m sure that was difficult.” Her grip on the chair eased.

  “The time he spent in a coma was hell. Not knowing if he would live or die was torture.”

  “I can imagine.”

  And he knew she could. He could imagine that she wished to be in his shoes right now—to have the chance with her own child to bring him back from an injury. Maybe empathy would help him get through to her.

  “Sean needs your help,” he said simply.

  “My answer is still the same. I’m sorry.”

  He was right about the words being pathetically inadequate. “I’m sorry” was the polite thing for her to say, yet it made him irrationally angry. Frustration gathered inside him and threatened to blow the lid off his temper as he tried to figure out what it would take to get through to her.

  He glanced around the kitchen as if he’d find the answer there. The white appliances were spotlessly clean, but not very new. Old in fact. Wooden oak cupboards showed bare wood yellowed with age and in urgent need of refinishing. Faded yellow paint covered the walls and in the nook where the table sat, he could see chipping.

  When he’d driven up to the front door, the Victorian had charmed him with its wraparound porch and turret. Then he’d looked closer and noticed shingles missing from the peaked roof and a loose section of railing that could use repair as well as a new coat of white paint.

  Gavin looked at M.J. Her hair was pulled up, away from her face and fastened with a large clip, revealing a long graceful neck and good cheekbones. Again she was wearing slacks—black this time, with a long-sleeved cotton blouse, inexpensive and serviceable.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, if it’s about money…”

  The term “got her back up” entered his mind. Her reaction was nearly imperceptible, but he’d swear her spine turned to steel. Or maybe he was just watching carefully because money had made him a target more than once. But the word “money” had definitely put a defensive look in her eyes, just for a moment, and her chin inched a bit higher. But she didn’t respond.

  “I can pay you well.” He heard the guarded note in his own voice. He’d paid off a woman once. She’d deliberately gotten pregnant. Oh, he’d been a willing participant, but she’d lied about taking the pill. She’d threatened to terminate the pregnancy unless he paid her. He had because the life she carried was part of him. How such a mercenary, devious witch had produced a sweet-natured innocent like Sean he would never understand. But he’d fallen in love with his son at first sight and would do anything, pay anything, to bring him back. “Name your price.”

  “It’s not about money, Gavin.”

  “In what fantasyland? It’s always about money. Anyone could see I’m desperate. Why wouldn’t you manipulate the situation to get more out of me?”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “Everyone has a price,” he snapped.

  “That’s quite a cynical attitude you’ve got there.” She folded her arms over her chest as she observed him with her cool blue eyes.

  “I earned it. School of hard knocks. You should know all about that,” he said, looking at her shiner.

  “I’m going to make an educated guess.” Absently she touched her fingers to her cheekbone. “Your wife took you for a bundle. Frankly, instead of trying to tempt me with more money, you’d be better off channeling those bucks into better legal counsel. Next time get a prenuptial agreement.”

  “There were no nuptials so an agreement was never an issue. But I don’t intend to let my guard down again.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I can relate to.”

  He had no interest in relating to her and didn’t give a damn whether or not she would trust again. That hinted at problems with her husband and the man was gone. The two of them wouldn’t get a chance to work out their issues. Gavin wasn’t unsympathetic. He simply didn’t have time to waste. All he wanted was to hire her for his son’s therapy.

  He let out a long breath and willed himself to patience. “It doesn’t take a mental giant to see that you need the money. I have lots of it. I can pay you extremely well for your expertise.” God, it sounded like he was begging, but if that would change her mind, he’d do it. “Just say the word, M.J.”

  “I can’t.”

  Two words, yet it sounded as if her heart was being ripped out. She’d told him that Brian had taken her heart, but Gavin didn’t understand why that kept her from doing the job that, by all accounts, she was extremely good at.

  “Why can’t you? I would think your loss would motivate you, that you’d want to help injured children.”

  “You arrogant, pigheaded idiot. How dare you?” Anger flashed in her eyes and it was better than the sorrow. “What gives you the right to judge me?”

  “I’m not judging—”

  “The hell you aren’t.” She glared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s too painful to be around young children.”

  “So it’s self-protection?”

  “Partly. But there’s a clinical basis for my decision.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple really. I hold back emotionally. It’s a response to pain, like pulling your hand away from fire. I can’t connect with kids anymore—” She swallowed hard. “Whatever made me a good SLP is broken.”

  SLP. Speech language pathologist. Gavin had done his homework on the subject. And Sean’s doctor had said she was the best. He needed her.

  Correction: Sean needed her.

  Gavin had seen her in action with teenagers. She’d found something positive to say about the two antisocial rebels. Whatever made her good with kids might be damaged, but he’d bet it wasn’t broken.

  But he noticed she was even more pale than that day in her classroom and more shaken up than she’d been after going a couple rounds with Evil E and hardware face. Her mouth trembled and her eyes were haunted, the bruise on her cheek standing out starkly against the fair skin. He’d stirred the pot of her feelings and should regret it, but guilt was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Still, desperate as he was, it was clear that he’d pushed hard enough.

  For now.

  “I’d like to see for myself whether or not you’ve lost your edge.” He slid his wallet from his back pocket and saw her gaze narrow as she frowned. After pulling out a business card, he dropped it on the oak table.

  “Do me a favor. Just think about it.” He walked past her and started toward the doorway.

  “Do you ever say please, Gavin?”

  “If it would change your mind I’d say it in a second.”

  “It wouldn’t,” she said. “I just wondered. Goodbye.”

  For now, he thought again.

  M.J. set her steaming mug of green tea on the kitchen table, then sat down, unable to suppress a tired sigh. “It’s good to be home.”

  Her mother set out three floral placemats followed by plates, napkins and utensils. While Evelyn set the table, Aunt Lil stirred something on the stove.

  “Rough day?” her mother asked.

  “Yes.” M.J. saw the frown and regretted her honesty.

  “You look tired, sweetie.” Evelyn’s mouth tightened with disapproval.

  “I am.” And not all of it was about the energy drain of educating teenagers. Some of it had to do with not sleeping well, and that was Gavin Spencer’s fault.