He was starving for a male role model. She'd considered enrolling him in a youth group of some sort, but here was a strong, independent male, offering to look after her baby.
Jacksonknew he was asking a lot. He wasn't exactly a prize. What the hell did he know about children?
A sharp pain stabbed him. Damn Bonnie for stealing his chance to learn.Taylor's drawn out silence seemed to signal rejection. His pride told him to withdraw the offer, but the memory of the joy on Nick's face when he'd paid attention to him pricked his paternal instincts into fighting mode.
"Look," he began.
"Hush."Taylorheld up a slim hand. "This is important. I have to think."
He didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. People usually didn't gainsay him, much less reject his help. Then again, in most cases, it wasn't a little boy's happiness on the line.
"Yes."
His heart clenched at that decisive sound. "Yes?"
"You'll be good for him. It pains me to know that I can't give him everything he needs but I can handle that. I had to think about it because if I make the wrong decision, Nick's heart could break. I trust you to never hurt him."
It would be so easy to promise. "At times, I'm likely to do that without meaning to."
"That's okay. Even I slip up." Her candor was followed by a nod. "Just don't ever do it on purpose."
There was a pregnant pause. "If we part ways after a year ... will you promise to stay in touch with him?"
"Yes." The boy was now one ofJackson's people, just likeTaylor. For the first time, he had the startling realization that even if they never had a child, he might not be able to walk away from this woman.
His woman.
Chapter 6
" Then I have no arguments,"Taylorstated.
He sucked in a breath. "That's a lot of trust."
"I know."
They stood there for a long time beforeJacksonspoke. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Her voice was wary.
"Trusting me."
She was silent for a long while. "It's hard."
He made himself ask. "Why?"
"It's hard to forget."
"Nick's father?"Taylorwas a sensitive woman. From what she'd told him, he knew that though she hadn't been able to comprehend why her mother loved that bastard, she'd understoodHelena's pain at Lance's indifference. It would've twisted her impression of what marriage was about. What love wasabout. Not that he was any closer to the answer,Jacksonthought bitterly.
"My mother loved two men. They both left her." It was a harsh explanation. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget that lesson."
"You are telling me that you do not believe you will ever love a man?" he forced himself to ask.
The answer was a whisper. "Yes ... I'm sorry."
"There is no need for an apology, piccola ." Anger burned in him for the hurts of her past, hurts that he could not undo, but he didn't allow her to see that. "We are equals. I know even less of love than you."
She gave him a shaky smile. "Equals, huh? Are you going to remember that after we're married?"
"If I do not, you will remind me. So, you do not trust men because of what two of our sex did to your mother?"
"Yes ... and because of what the others did ... to me."
Jackson's heart slammed into his chest at that lost, broken sound. He'd guessed that her sexual fears were rooted in events beyond her assault at the hands of Grant Layton, but having it confirmed was an unwelcome shock. Fury erupted inside him. Used to being calm and in control, he knew that if any man had hurt his Taylor, he'd rip them limb from limb and suffer no pangs of conscience.
He'd forgotten to tell her that while he wasn't a mobster, back inItalya branch of theSantorini line was very deeply enmeshed with themafioso . He could well understand why. Violence and rage roared beneath the surface of his composed front, demanding vengeance. His woman should never have been touched by anyone.
Moving the forgotten glass to a nearby table, he turned and sat down on the window seat. Holding Taylor's cold hands, he tugged her between his spread legs. Her eyes were bruised against her pale skin but she held his gaze.
"Tell me about the others." His voice was harsh, a demand that she submit to his care. He was so angry for her that he couldn't be the civilized man she needed.
Her head jerked up. Whatever she saw on his face made her eyes widen. "No. No. Nothing like that, Jackson."
To reassure her, he forced his anger below the surface. "Tell me then."
Her hands became fists. Then she made a tiny movement that gave away her need to be held. He held out his arms and she fit her wonderfully giving body against him; sitting in his lap with her knees drawn up, feet flat on the window seat beside his thigh and arms tight around his torso. Fierce protectiveness shot through him. He'd never known that he could feel this much. When she began to speak, he tried to remain calm for her sake, even though her words provoked his most primitive instincts.
"I think ... after a while, my mother lost hope, or lost the hope that she'd managed to nurture. At first, when Lance didn't come home for weeks, she'd wait for him." She nestled herself impossibly closer.
"It was as if while he was out of her sight, she'd convince herself that this time, it'd be different. But, it never was." Her hands dug into his back. "And one day, I don't think she could fool herself any longer.
I'll always wonder why they didn't divorce earlier. He was barely around long enough for Nick to be conceived."
Jacksonwanted to hurt Lance for being the cause of the pain he could hear inTaylor's voice. Only the fact that he was Nick's father was keeping him safe. "Why do you think she lost hope?" His voice sounded ragged to him but she didn't seem to notice that he was riding on the thinnest edge of self-control.
"She didn't wait for him anymore. At first, I thought that was a good thing." She took a gasping breath.
"Then she started bringing the men home."
He felt his jaw lock. "Where were you?"
"She locked us in our room in the apartment."
"Us?"
"Nick was a baby. I used to take care of him - I didn't trust her not to hurt him by doing something wrong."
Jacksonsqueezed his eyes shut to blink back tears. Loyal didn't begin to describeTaylor, She was ferociously protective of those she considered her own. Now he understood why she was so determined to keep Nick safe.
"Sometimes, she'd make me come out and say hello to the men. She'd be drunk and not like my mother at all. It was horrible."
He froze. "You said nothing happened."
"I ... nothing really bad..." She took a long, deep breath, as if the memories were choking her.
He resisted the urge to order her to tell him everything. "What did happen?"
"Their eyes used to crawl over me." She shivered. "I wanted to throw up. But I could cope with that.
Then the men she brought home started to hurt her."
Jackson's jaw was clenched so tight that his whole face ached, while his mind became quietly, dangerously, angry. She'd always made him feel protective of her sunny innocence. Now he saw that she'd been hiding very real wounds beneath that smile, and he adored her even more.
"They'd ... hurt her," she repeated, as if she couldn't bear to elaborate. "I couldn't stop them. I had to protect Nick because she certainly didn't. I think she hated him." Fierce blue eyes met his when he glanced down. "It wasn't his fault that his father was a horrible human being."
"Of course not."
As if reassured, she put her head back against his chest. "Once, I got scared by the violence and I called the police. They came and took that man away."
Hairs rose on the back of his neck. He knew that her story couldn't have had a happy ending. "What happened?"
"My mother was grateful. She said she'd picked a real mean one. He got locked up and that was okay."
"But?"
"But he got out in a couple of months and he followed me home from school. I didn't know he was behind me until I was crossing a park along the way - I was rushing to get home to Nick. He jumped out from behind a tree and dragged me into the bushes. His hand was on my mouth. I couldn't breathe or scream." Her voice shook.
"He pinned me against the tree, out of sight of the path, one hand on my mouth, the other around my hands. Then he let my mouth free but before I could scream, he gripped my throat. I thought he was going to choke me to death."
Jacksonknew she was crying silently and there wasn't anything he could do but hold her. No wonder she couldn't bear a sexual touch. She'd been bruised again and again, at the very time that her developing sexuality would have been at its most vulnerable.
"He started whispering about what he'd like to do to a ripe young thing like me. All the things he said ...
they were sick and disgusting." Her hand clenched onJackson's shirt. "He groped my ... breasts while I tried to get him to break his chokehold."
"You got away?" He needed to know that because if she hadn't, he couldn't do anything about the pain she'd suffered. He was a man used to taking control but this time, there was nothing he could do. His sweetTaylorhad been brutalized by a man who'd had no right to be near someone so pure and innocent.
"He stopped touching me and started to undo his pants. His grip loosened for just an instant, but it was enough. I kneed him in the groin and took off."
Thank God she was a fighter. "Did he come after you?"
"Yes, but when I was at school they started this program in my neighborhood. People who were usually at home and were judged good people by the community were asked to have their letterboxes painted bright yellow. That meant they were safe houses."