scenario, the fantasy would only remain a figment of his imagination. Embarking on anything that may lead to a relationship simply could not happen, either physically or emotionally. Such a risk would only lead to heart-wrenching results, just like it had with Fiona.
When Fiona had had his child, he'd pressed for a formal commitment. After all, he had to make it work for the sake of the baby, even if he and the mother had their share of troubles. She'd flatly refused his marriage proposal. She'd admitted that she'd lied about her past and turned her back on him, ripping the child from his life. A true blow to the heart, a heart he kept guarded today.
He still couldn't let go of the memory. Fiona had pulled his child—correction— her child from his embrace. And walked out on him forever.
He's not your son.
The words echoed in the back of his mind.
He's not your son.
The child he'd fallen in love with was not his.
Just before Shayne's thoughts took a downward spiral, Willow suddenly appeared. The room brightened with her in it. His sobering thoughts melted away.
She looked fresh and clean, scrubbed shiny new, with a ponytail high on her head. She kept her clothing simple; a formfitting cream tank top, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. The tank top allowed him the pleasure of admiring her curves. The shorts gifted him with the sight of slender legs and he enjoyed the graceful sway in her walk.
Maybe the clothing wasn't as simple as he first thought. After his obsession with mentally exploring her every curve in the shower, how could he handle watching her like this the rest of the day?
He groaned inwardly. It would require a mighty feat of strength.
Willow stood before him. "Would you like something cool to drink after that hot coffee? I'm pretty good at making iced tea. Never too much caffeine, right?"
"Yes," was all he could manage. She brushed past him and sashayed into the kitchen.
Before he could utter anything he'd regret, like, "You look magnificent," his cell phone squealed in his pocket. He pulled it out to look at the caller ID. He frowned.
His brother, Grant, had already left two messages. In the last one, he'd made a point to say that Blake—the youngest brother in the trio—didn't do anything wrong and shouldn't be punished.
Shayne had never dreamed the tight bond he shared with his brother Blake could sever so quickly. And all because of the selfish actions of a woman.
Blake remained firmly rooted on one side of the feud; Shayne held his stance on the other. Grant, in the middle, carried the emotional brunt of the fight.
Willow reappeared and set down two tall glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. She looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you going to answer your cell phone?"
"It's my brother, Grant, again."
"You don't want to talk to him?"
"I already know what it's about."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, which only accentuated her cleavage. "Let me guess. Grant wants to talk to you about this problem you have with your other brother. Boy, it must be a doozy."
"Blake's getting married," Shayne grumbled. He didn't regret the words, not when the situation hadn't become fully real for him yet. He stuffed the phone into his pocket, annoyed by its incessant ringing. He had to keep his cool because if he did allow his spiraling thoughts to get the best of him—
"Hey, are you okay?" Willow's tender voice pulled him from his brooding.
"What? Yes, I'm alright."
"So, Blake's wedding isn't a good thing, in your opinion," Willow prodded. She stepped closer and set those large curious eyes on him. He hated when she did that because it always made him willing to open up to her.
"I don't want to talk about it," Shayne said. Not when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms to help him forget.
"I understand. Being the doctor in the family can be a big responsibility. Your brothers look up to you and—"
"We're all doctors."
Willows eyes amplified in surprise. "All three of you? How'd
When Fiona had had his child, he'd pressed for a formal commitment. After all, he had to make it work for the sake of the baby, even if he and the mother had their share of troubles. She'd flatly refused his marriage proposal. She'd admitted that she'd lied about her past and turned her back on him, ripping the child from his life. A true blow to the heart, a heart he kept guarded today.
He still couldn't let go of the memory. Fiona had pulled his child—correction— her child from his embrace. And walked out on him forever.
He's not your son.
The words echoed in the back of his mind.
He's not your son.
The child he'd fallen in love with was not his.
Just before Shayne's thoughts took a downward spiral, Willow suddenly appeared. The room brightened with her in it. His sobering thoughts melted away.
She looked fresh and clean, scrubbed shiny new, with a ponytail high on her head. She kept her clothing simple; a formfitting cream tank top, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. The tank top allowed him the pleasure of admiring her curves. The shorts gifted him with the sight of slender legs and he enjoyed the graceful sway in her walk.
Maybe the clothing wasn't as simple as he first thought. After his obsession with mentally exploring her every curve in the shower, how could he handle watching her like this the rest of the day?
He groaned inwardly. It would require a mighty feat of strength.
Willow stood before him. "Would you like something cool to drink after that hot coffee? I'm pretty good at making iced tea. Never too much caffeine, right?"
"Yes," was all he could manage. She brushed past him and sashayed into the kitchen.
Before he could utter anything he'd regret, like, "You look magnificent," his cell phone squealed in his pocket. He pulled it out to look at the caller ID. He frowned.
His brother, Grant, had already left two messages. In the last one, he'd made a point to say that Blake—the youngest brother in the trio—didn't do anything wrong and shouldn't be punished.
Shayne had never dreamed the tight bond he shared with his brother Blake could sever so quickly. And all because of the selfish actions of a woman.
Blake remained firmly rooted on one side of the feud; Shayne held his stance on the other. Grant, in the middle, carried the emotional brunt of the fight.
Willow reappeared and set down two tall glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. She looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you going to answer your cell phone?"
"It's my brother, Grant, again."
"You don't want to talk to him?"
"I already know what it's about."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, which only accentuated her cleavage. "Let me guess. Grant wants to talk to you about this problem you have with your other brother. Boy, it must be a doozy."
"Blake's getting married," Shayne grumbled. He didn't regret the words, not when the situation hadn't become fully real for him yet. He stuffed the phone into his pocket, annoyed by its incessant ringing. He had to keep his cool because if he did allow his spiraling thoughts to get the best of him—
"Hey, are you okay?" Willow's tender voice pulled him from his brooding.
"What? Yes, I'm alright."
"So, Blake's wedding isn't a good thing, in your opinion," Willow prodded. She stepped closer and set those large curious eyes on him. He hated when she did that because it always made him willing to open up to her.
"I don't want to talk about it," Shayne said. Not when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms to help him forget.
"I understand. Being the doctor in the family can be a big responsibility. Your brothers look up to you and—"
"We're all doctors."
Willows eyes amplified in surprise. "All three of you? How'd
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