The Baby They Both Loved. Nikki Benjamin

she said the one thing she had to know was guaranteed to run me off. You were her best friend, Kit. You were the one she would have trusted most, yet she lied to you, too, didn’t she?”

      “Only if I believe what you’ve told me is the truth,” Kit countered.

      Gathering Nathan’s empty bowl and cup, she pushed away from the table and crossed to the sink, turning her back on Simon. He was making too much sense for her peace of mind.

      “Why would I lie to you?” Simon asked relentlessly, echoing the question she’d posed to herself once already.

      “So you can strut around town again without looking like a jerk,” she retorted, aware that she was grasping at straws.

      Why would Simon Gilmore care what anyone in tiny Belle, Montana, thought of him—including her? He could certainly snow his own parents without a practice run, and he had a whole other life in Seattle, Washington. None of his friends in the big city need ever know about his youthful indiscretion.

      “You should know me better than that after all the time we spent together, Kit,” Simon chided her gently. “I’ve made my share of mistakes and I’ve always owned up to them. But I’m not hanging my head in shame over something I didn’t do. And I did not abandon Lucy or my son.”

      “I thought I knew Lucy, too, but now I’m not so sure,” Kit admitted, failing to realize until too late that she had finally sided with him, at least in an indirect way.

      “That’s not exactly a vote of total confidence, but hey, I’ll take what I can get,” Simon said, his gruff tone lightening perceptively. Then as Kit took Nathan’s bottle from the warmer, he added to the little boy, “Hey, buddy, how about I get you out of that high chair?”

      Clutching the baby bottle in both hands, Kit spun around to face Simon again, just as he lifted Nathan into his arms. The child went to him willingly, looking up at him with wondering eyes. His expression grave but unafraid, Nathan patted Simon’s jaw with one little hand. Simon seemed equally enchanted by his son, returning the little boy’s gaze with one full of awe.

      Kit was both endeared and terrified by the sight of father and son taking their first tentative steps in the bonding process. Simon couldn’t think she’d let him take Nathan away from her on the basis of some wild, impossible-to-prove story.

      “Let me have him,” she demanded.

      Her voice sounding harsh and afraid to her ears as she plunked the bottle on the table, she reached for Nathan.

      Obviously startled by her tone, Simon took a step back. His hold on Nathan seemed to tighten as he gazed at her in confusion. Nathan, too, stared at her, his eyes widening, his lower lip beginning to quiver.

      Pain squeezed at Kit’s heart as she thought of how easily Simon could turn and walk out of the apartment with Nathan still in his arms. The way he was standing, he had a clear shot through the kitchen to the front door. She wasn’t strong enough to stop him physically. She doubted George and Bonnie together would be, either, even if she managed to alert them in time.

      Tears welled in her eyes and her hands began to shake. She couldn’t lose Nathan. Not after all the other losses she’d suffered in the past six months.

      “Please,” she begged, unable to hide her desperation as she held her arms out to Simon in supplication. “Please let me have him….”

       Chapter Four

       S imon stared at Kit in silence for several long, confusing moments, unsure at first what had triggered the high note of panic in her voice as she reached out so greedily for Nathan. He had only been trying to lend a hand, wanting to release the fidgeting little boy from the confines of his high chair before he began to fuss.

      Taking such action had seemed harmless enough, and of course he’d handled Nathan with consummate care. He had thought Kit would appreciate the help, busy as she was rinsing dishes at the sink, then fetching Nathan’s bottle from the warmer. But the longing that had built steadily inside of him as he’d sat by the table, talking to Kit, had motivated him, as well.

      Focusing more and more of his attention on the child happily eating the chicken soup and saltines she fed him so patiently, Simon had noted the many physical similarities between him and his son. He had seen in Nathan, too, something of Lucy in the determined tilt of his little chin and the elegant arch of his eyebrows.

      With increasing urgency Simon had wanted to feel the warm, solid weight of his son’s small body in his arms. He had needed to hold his child close, to look into his bright blue eyes with the gentle reassurance of a father promising his beloved child that he would move heaven and earth to make sure everything in his world would always be just fine.

      Your daddy’s here now, little guy, and he’s going to take very good care of you.

      Understanding finally dawned on Simon as Kit continued to stand in front of him, however, her eyes darkened by the shadow of inexpressible fear. She must have sensed the intensity of his determination to accept responsibility for the son he only now knew he had. And she must now think that he intended to take Nathan from her at that very moment.

      No wonder she had panicked, Simon thought, his heart going out to her in sympathy. She must see him as her enemy, when that wasn’t his intention at all. They had been friends once. For Nathan’s sake, he hoped they could be friends again.

      Kit had said that Lucy named her as the boy’s legal guardian. She had also said that she was in the process of adopting him, and it was apparent, by all she’d said and done, that she loved and cherished him deeply.

      In the months since Lucy’s death Kit had mothered Nathan as if he were her own child. She was the one constant in his son’s short life, and she was the one Nathan reached for now with a tearful whimper, aware as children always are, of emotions running high.

      Simon knew that he would gain nothing by alienating Kit Davenport, and he would upset Nathan, as well, by behaving like a bully. There were ways that he could go about asserting his parental rights in a calm and dignified manner. He truly had no desire at all to cause Kit unnecessary pain.

      To his way of thinking, he owed her an enormous debt of gratitude. Had it not been for her generosity of spirit, Nathan could have become a ward of the state. Put into a foster home and eventually adopted by strangers, his son would never have known he had a father ready and willing to love and care for him.

      No, Simon didn’t want to hurt Kit, or upset her unnecessarily. But he wasn’t going to give up his son to her, either—at least not on any kind of permanent basis.

      Of course, he was going to need time to bond with his son before he would be ready to take over as a full-time father. And Kit was the one person who could facilitate that bonding. Her acceptance of him would, in turn, guarantee Nathan’s acceptance of him, and only with mutual acceptance and understanding would they avoid any further emotional trauma.

      “Hey, no problem,” Simon said finally, shifting Nathan into Kit’s arms with a reassuring smile. “I hope I didn’t scare him.”

      The little boy’s quivering lip vanished as he snuggled contentedly against Kit’s shoulder. Her relief was almost palpable as she held the child close. But there was also embarrassment evident in the lingering glance she shot Simon’s way.

      “Actually, I believe I’m the one who frightened him, raising my voice the way I did,” she admitted, her slight smile rueful.

      “You weren’t afraid that I’d drop him or anything, were you?” Simon asked, wanting to find out just how honest she would be with him.

      Kit hesitated a moment, her smile fading as she looked away, then met his gaze again, her chin tipped at a defensive angle.

      “I trusted that you’d be careful with him,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “What concerned me was the possibility that you’d try to leave with him, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop you.”

      Her