Cole Cameron's Revenge

Her heart, her pathetic, sad heart, filled with happiness. Faith told herself it had nothing to do with the fact that Cole was her son's father. She'd have been happy if any other man-a Scout leader, a teacher, a baseball coach-put a smile on her boy's face, but she knew it wasn't true. And then she'd do her best not to think at all, because she knew that neither Cole or Peter could ever know the truth.

Gradually, she found herself drawn into the things they did together. She tried not to get involved. The less time she spent with Cole, the better. But it was hard to say "no" to Peter when he begged her to go fishing with them so she could see that he'd learned to bait his own hook; it was selfish to say she'd rather read than go outside and laugh her way through a game of ball that had rules the two of them obviously made up on the spot.

What woman would want to sit alone with a book when the boy you loved and the man you'd once adored were having fun together?

Nights were more difficult. Faith knew they looked like an average family. They had dinner. They watched TV. They read, they listened to music. They did all the things other people did. She and Cole even managed polite conversation, for Peter's sake. But then Peter would go to bed-they took him up together and tucked him in-and when they returned to the living room, the silence of the night would settle between them.

She began going to her room early. "Good night," she'd say politely.

Cole would look up, his eyes dark and unfathomable. "'There's no need to leave on my account," he'd say, his voice cool now that there was no need for pretense.

"Oh," she'd say, "I'm not. I'm just..." Tired. Sleepy.

Headachy. She had lots of excuses. Then she'd climb the stairs, conscious every step of Cole's eyes on her, just as she'd be conscious later of his footsteps outside her door, of the sound of the shower running in the bathroom ... of the beat of her heart as she imagined herself rising from her bed, stripping off her nightgown, opening the door and going into the shower with him, imagined putting her arms around him and lifting her face to his while her breasts pressed against his water slicked skin and his mouth claimed hers.

He thought about it, too. She was sure of it. She caught him watching her one evening, his look hot and hungry. She felt her entire body flush with heat and when she stumbled through another pathetic excuse and went to her room, she fell back against the closed door, breathless.

Would this be the night? Would he open the connecting doors and come to her bed?

She sank down in a chair. If it happened, she'd turn him away. She'd married him and yes, she was his wife and yes, she'd only fault herself if she gave in to desire and made love with him ...but it wouldn't be love, it would be sex, and she'd never have sex with him. Hadn't she told him that? Hadn't he agreed to it? He'd even signed that prenup.

Except-except they both knew the document was meaningless, that he'd only signed it to humor her or maybe to humor himself, because he was positive he'd be able to change her mind. He hadn't tried, and she hoped he wouldn't. Because if he came to her in the night, if he woke her by kissing her, if she felt his hands moving on her body, she would stop him. She would stop him...

Wouldn't she?

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of Cole, of lying in his arms, of laughing with him, walking with him, doing all the things they'd never been able to do when they were young. She awoke, exhausted, a little after eight. She showered, dressed, went downstairs and found Cole and Peter waiting for her. The man and the boy exchanged a private smile.

"Hi, MOM."

"Good morning, Faith."

She looked from one face to the other. God, she thought, oh, God, this was so hard. They had the same eyes. The same smiles. The same noses, except for that little bump in Cole's...

"How'd that happen?" she said, without thinking.

-

What?-"That bump in your nose. It wasn't there when..." She flushed. "when you were younger."

"Oh." He grinned and rubbed a finger over the spot. "Let's just say I had an argument with a piece of heavy equipment and the equipment won."

"Like Billy Cullen," Peter blurted. "He had an argument with a roller coaster. I mean, about a roller coaster. I mean, with his sister about a roller coaster. And he banged up his knee."

Faith looked at her son. "What on earth does Billy Cullen's sister have to do with a roller coaster?"

Peter shot a sheepish look at Cole who sighed dramatically and reached for the boy's hand. "It seems the Cullen kid went to Six Flags, argued with his sister about whether or not she was brave enough to ride the Mind Bender..."

"The what?" Faith said, and laughed.

"It's a roller coaster," Peter said excitedly. "Billy says it's huge. Billy says we should ride it unless we're chicken. Billy says-"