"She'll put you in time-out." Drew scrubbed a fist across his tear-stained face.

"Or swat me with her wooden spoon."

Drew offered him a tiny smile. "She smacked Uncle Todd once when he stole three m.u.f.fins, but the spoon broke."

"Ouch."

Drew yawned, his eyelids fluttering shut. "Mummy wouldn't do that, though. She likes you"-another jaw-stretching yawn-"and I like you, too."

Nate's throat clamped shut as the boy nestled in under his chin, resting his small head on the crook of Nate's arm. He didn't dare move as Drew's breathing evened out and his warm hand clutched Nate's arm.

Nate closed his eyes so he wouldn't have yet another heart-breaking memory to add to his collection. He pulled the comforter over them both.

"Right back at you, little mate."

He was only making it harder on himself when the time came to walk away.

A time that drew closer and closer.

By the time Lauren had driven home from the hospital it was closer to dawn than midnight. Lights still burned downstairs, and after a quick pat of Java's head, she walked into an empty kitchen then family room.

Well, now. She'd expected to find Nate flaked out in front of the TV, remote on his stomach and feet propped on her coffee table. Moving farther inside, Lauren spotted the remote on the floor, its battery guts spilled open as if it'd been thrown. p.r.i.c.kles jabbed the base of her spine, her stomach suddenly twisting. She dropped her bag and hurried up the stairs, forcing herself to take long, slow breaths.

He was fine. Drew was fine.

A sliver of golden light sliced across the floor under Drew's door, and she gently pushed it open. The bedside lamp glowed, casting back shadows and highlighting Nate's broad back curled forward in the single bed. Drew's soft snores and the louder, deeper breathing of the man precariously perched on the edge of the mattress were the only sounds. She crept into the room. Tucked into Nate's body, Drew slept with his hand clutching Nate's tee shirt, one pajama-clad leg hooked over his knee.

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. The wanting, the yearning for this to be a real, tangible foundation for her and Nate to build a lifetime on throbbed with every heartbeat.

She wanted him for Drew; but more, she wanted him for herself.

His kindness, his strength, her belief now that he saw her-saw her right down to her scarred soul and accepted her unconditionally.

She walked to the bed and crouched beside it, laying a hand on Nate's shoulder and murmuring his name so as not to startle him. He came awake instantly, twisting his head up to meet her gaze, a sheepish smile curving his lips.

Between the two of them, they gently eased Drew away from Nate so he could climb off the bed. Lauren tucked her son in then laced her fingers with Nate's and led him to her bedroom.

Closing the door behind them, she turned and peeled off her dress.

But before Operation-Seduction went into action, he said, "How's Mel and the baby?"

Her throat constricted, blood booming past her eardrums as she stood in her underwear and stared across the room. It was too late, dammit. She'd stupidly gone and fallen in love with Nate Fraser.

Not in the moment when she'd found him asleep with her son, not when he'd smiled at her in Drew's bed, his green eyes shimmering in the lamplight. No. She'd tripped over the line when he'd seen her standing almost naked in front of him and he'd thought to ask about someone in her family.

Lauren pressed a hand to her chest as a reminder to her lungs to keep functioning.

"Mel had a healthy baby boy, and they're both doing well. Adam's not doing quite as well since he fainted during the delivery and ended up with five st.i.tches in his forehead."

"That's got to hurt." Nate ran his fingers through his rumpled bed hair and m.u.f.fled a yawn.

"More his ego and the knowledge that Todd and his other brothers-in-law will never let him live it down."

She swayed toward him, running her palms up the ridged muscles of his chest and planting a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw. "Come to bed."

A flash of straight white teeth. "I've already had a nap, I'm not that tired."

"Good. Because sleeping is not what I had in mind."

Lips curving into a smile, she traced the hard angles of his face as he backed her up to the bed. She belonged here, in his arms, falling into a tangle on the sheets.

Nate claimed her mouth, his hands possessive as he stripped away her bra and panties. Shoving up his shirt with one hand, she gently raked her nails down the solid line of his abs.

She broke the kiss, fumbling with the stud of his jeans. "Too many clothes."

"Fixable." He stripped off his jeans and shirt, grabbed protection from her nightstand and came back to her, all hot skin on hot skin.

Wedged between her thighs, his forearms braced either side of her shoulders, he nuzzled her neck. "You're in a hurry."

In a hurry? No, she wanted every moment of this night preserved in Technicolor detail. The imprint of his face, his musky male scent, the explosion of sensations as he sucked on her earlobe-she wanted it to last. She wanted to remember it all.

"Make love to me," she said.

His arousal pressed intimately against her, and she arched her hips, drawing him deep inside.

He took her lips again, the dance of his tongue dipping into her mouth mimicking the measured strokes of his body. Crossing her legs over his hips, she encouraged him to move faster, delicious heat spiraling through her core. The wall of his chest grazed her aching nipples as he rocked them both, slicking a fine sheen of sweat across her skin. She couldn't hold back, couldn't hold anything back from him.

Her body convulsed around his, and pleasure drew out a moan so deep part of her scarred heart ripped away with it. Lauren buried her face in the curve of Nate's neck and held on as if she'd never have to let him go.

Nate didn't want to say yes to his old boss' request, but his bills wouldn't pay themselves. Two days in the Bay of Islands covering a pre-Waitangi Day protest would help boost his dwindling bank account.

"You and Stevie would've fought like alley cats over this, not so long ago." The man's patronizing voice buzzed down the line from a sky-rise office in downtown Auckland.

Nate kept the phone pressed to his ear, careful not to move off his deck-the only place he could get decent cellphone reception. Lauren bent over a spindly sapling, and he leaned against the railing to further admire her shorts-clad b.u.t.t. She and Drew had arrived earlier that morning with a packed picnic lunch. Afterward, she'd taken it upon herself to plant half a dozen young native trees along the driveway.

"Steve is dead, Wally." Calling Walter Beaumont the Third "Wally" irritated the man almost as much as it irritated Nate to hear his friend called "Stevie." And it bugged the h.e.l.l out of Nate more to admit the truth in Wally's words.

When it turned out Steve's weight loss wasn't due to a new health kick but instead was the dreaded Big C, eating his lungs from the inside out, he'd sucked up his pride and taken any jobs going to help his friend pay the ever-increasing mountain of bills.

Walter tsked in Nate's ear, a noise with no trace of sympathy. "Yes, terrible thing, that. But life goes on, and you're just about on location. You want the job or not?"

Lauren straightened and turned toward him, the brim of her G.o.d-awful sunhat and oversized sungla.s.ses blocking a clear view of her eyes. The sly curve on her lips told him she knew he hated that d.a.m.n hat, knew exactly what he'd been looking at, and knew exactly what he'd wanted to do to her all morning. They stared at each other across the expanse, Walter's voice a distant mosquito whine in the background.

I see what's behind your smile, sweetheart. You can hide from the camera's eye, but I see you.

Drew's sudden cry broke the connection. His gaze zeroed in on the boy sprawled on the ground with Java nosing his legs. Lauren covered the distance quickly and stooped down to help the boy to his feet.

"All right, I'll do it." His autopilot functioning, Nate interrupted Walter's spiel, mentally a.s.sessing Drew's movements to determine if the kid really was injured. "I'll leave in an hour."

He disconnected and strode across the gra.s.s, which would soon be sculptured into a stunning entrance to the house. He stepped around the sites marked out for flowerbeds and a barbeque area-things that would eat up more of his cash reserves. So he'd try to see this two-day trip as a blessing.

"Hey, guys," he called out.

Boy and dog rushed Nate in a tangle of paws and legs. He gathered Drew up before the dog could trip him a second time. Drew buried his snot-streaked face in Nate's shoulder.

"Higher, Nate. Higher! Java'll get me again."

A knot formed in Nate's stomach, but he hauled the squirming boy up and over so that he sat straddling his shoulders. "Better?"

Giggles filled the air as Java braced his front paws on Nate's chest and licked Drew's toes, which caused more enthusiastic wriggling. Nate glanced over at Lauren. She angled the sungla.s.ses down to reveal slightly drawn brows, a thoughtful expression flittering across her eyes.

"Listen, I've got to take off to the Bay of Islands for an a.s.signment. I shouldn't be away longer than two days."

Lauren's half-smile slipped into a straight line, but she tugged the corners up again and said in an easy tone, "Sure."

Drew stilled. Small hands clamped around Nate's chin and tilted it so far back, he copped a perfect upside down view of the kid's trembling lower lip.

"You're going away? But you're coming back, aren't you?"

A second knot in his stomach appeared beside the first.

"Sweetie, Nate has to work-"

He shot Lauren a quelling look, and she fell silent.

"It's okay. Drew and I will sort this out." He kept a firm grip on Drew's ankle and turned away. "I've got something for you in the car."

Nate swung Drew off his shoulders as they stopped in front of his Range Rover, getting a clip in the ear from one bony kneecap on the way down. He couldn't help but grin. Kid was going to be tall like his mum, all sky-high, lanky legs. Would probably be six foot by the time he hit the teen years.

Not that he'd be around to witness the boy's awkward transition into the adolescent wilderness. He wouldn't be around when Drew started primary school or when he graduated from training wheels to the challenge of balancing on two. He wouldn't be around to teach the kid how to really see a subject before even raising a camera to his eye. He wouldn't be the one to show him how to cast a line, or to have the kid laugh at him while they learned to surf. And he wouldn't be the one to put an arm around his shoulder the first time some girl inadvertently broke his heart.

The thought left him feeling like a leaky bucket, all his joy draining away into a pool of emptiness.

Drew, forgetting he was upset, bopped up and down. "Whatcha got in your car for me?"

Nate opened the back door and slid out his camera case, popping open the lid. From a little pocket tucked into the lining, he removed a cracked plastic sleeve attached to a bootlace. Inside the plastic sleeve was a sc.r.a.p of blue card with the word "reporter" printed across it in faded ink.

"Superman is a reporter, yeah?"

"No. Superman is a superhero. His alpha-ego is a reporter," Drew said.

"Got it. His alter-ego, Clark Kent."

Drew frowned but nodded.

"When I was a boy, I wanted to be a reporter just like Super-Clark Kent. One time, my dad had to go away to a country called Bangladesh for three weeks-"

"Did you miss him?"

Nate crouched so he could look into the boy's eyes. "Like crazy."

"I don't miss my daddy; he was mean." Drew's gaze was steady and unflinching.

"I'm sorry."

Drew shrugged one skinny shoulder, a gesture that nearly shattered the remnants of Nate's composure. He took a deep breath and ran his thumb along the tattered edge of the cover.

"So before my dad went away, he gave me this." He showed Drew the plastic sleeve and bootlace. "He told me it was my very own reporter's press pa.s.s, and when I wore it, I could have lots of adventures, and I'd remember he was close to me even if he wasn't around."

Nate draped the bootlace lanyard over Drew's head. "This is yours now. While I'm gone, you need to be brave like Superman, have lots of adventures, and look out for your mum. Okay?"

Nate doubted the kid knew what the ancient sc.r.a.p of card meant. How he'd carried it around with him for years, a talisman of his father's love. And how, for the first time, his hardened resolve had cracked enough for him to want to pa.s.s that talisman on.

Drew wrapped a small fist around the plastic sleeve and paralyzed Nate with a patented, older-than-his-years stare.

"Are you going to be my new dad?"

A sucker punch, delivered straight to the heart. Nate stood, ruffled Drew's hair and tried a laugh, which came out a frog-ish croak. "Ah, I think I make a better mate to you, kid, than I would a dad."

"Can't you be both?" The wistfulness in Drew's tone had Nate slamming shut his camera case and closing the car door.

"Tell you what. How about I find my cooler and pick up some of that special ice cream you've been dying to try?" His voice sounded like a drowning man clutching at a pile of twigs.

Drew immediately brightened. "Cookie dough with chocolate chunks?"

"That's the one. I'll grab a big tub on the way back, and we'll eat like men until we puke-how does that sound?"

"Awesome!" The kid vibrated with excitement and bolted toward Lauren. "Muuum! Nate says we're gonna eat ice cream 'til we puke!"

The urge to flee the emotions churning through Nate overpowered his pride. He had to get this property done and dusted before he completely lost his mind.

"I'm on a deadline, you know," he muttered to G.o.d-knows-who and stomped back to his house.

He needed to get away from here. Away from Lauren and the boy he'd already started to see as his.

Nate studied the half-ripped crowd at The Sea Witch with jaded eyes. How had he become the sullen dude perched at the end of a bar, nursing a beer? He'd spent the afternoon skulking around the touristy but scenic Paihia in the Bay of Islands, with his camera at the ready to catch the mood of the people gathering for tomorrow's protest. What little enthusiasm he'd started with had quickly frayed.

Indigo walls and modern art, which looked to him like a child's tantrum caught on canvas, were the only interesting things to stare at while he sipped his beer. He adjusted the camera hanging around his neck and closed his eyes against some perky, remade pop song, which was so loud it made his teeth hurt.

After Steve died-not in his arms, exactly, as the ornery b.u.g.g.e.r waited until Nate left on a bathroom break to take his final breath-Nate had lost his taste for bar crawls and all-nighters. He didn't want to spend the evening with a bunch of strangers. He wanted to be tucked up on Lauren's couch with Drew snoring on one side and Lauren snuggled against his hip on the other.

He shoved the beer aside and slid off the stool, weaving through the crowd until he hit the sidewalk of Paihia's million-dollar-view foresh.o.r.e. Striding back to his hotel room, Nate punched Lauren's number into his phone.