Jonathan opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. He couldn’t imagine that any of it was real. Him, a father? He didn’t know how. All he knew was the abandonment of his parents and a life of isolation. He didn’t know where to begin to change that for Colton. Cynthia said that what Colton needed the most was love and Jonathan didn’t know how to do that.

He’d always told himself that families were an invention of the devil and he hadn’t changed his mind. No doubt Lucifer himself was having a good laugh at his expense right about now. Jonathan drew in a deep breath and leaned his head against the back of the chair. He’d never felt more alone in his life. He ached for her.

And yet he would find a way to go on without her because he couldn’t be the things she needed him to be. Because he didn’t know how to love her and he wouldn’t offer her less than she deserved. No, he thought grimly. All that was bull. He’d never been selfless enough to give a damn about anyone else. The real reason he wouldn’t have her in his world was that he couldn’t risk caring about her and having her leave. Once he allowed himself to love Cynthia, he wouldn’t survive her going away. Because everyone left eventually. They always had.

Cynthia sat curled up in the lone chair in her bedroom. The cramped quarters-filled with a full-size bed, a small desk and low bookcase-had been her haven for over ten years. She loved this room. All through high school and beyond, it had been her refuge. Yet now it could have been a hotel room for all the comfort it gave.

She glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine in the evening. She hadn’t eaten, but she wasn’t hungry. She doubted she would be able to sleep later, either. She felt as if she’d been run over and left as roadkill. It hurt to think and breathe and even to stay upright in the chair. If this was love, she’d made a big mistake giving in to it so easily.

A knock on the door forced her to gather her waning strength enough to speak. “Come in,” she called.

Jenny entered, carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups and a plate of cookies. “Mom says it’s okay not to eat anything, but you have to drink the tea. The cookies are my idea. They always make me feel better.”

Jenny’s thirteen-year-old features were so earnest and caring, Cynthia couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks. I’m doing okay.”

Jenny set the tray on the desk, then poured them each a cup of tea. She took hers to the bed and settled cross-legged in the center of the mattress. “You don’t look okay and you don’t act okay. Plus I can tell when you’re lying. Mom says that’s a good thing. That we’re all lousy liars, I mean.” She offered a quick smile that faded almost as soon as it began. “I’m sorry about what happened with Mr. Steele.”

Cynthia reached for her tea and took a sip of the steaming liquid. “Me, too. I guess it’s going to take some time to get over him.”

Her sister, a younger version of their mother, tilted her head. “I don’t understand. I know Mr. Steele liked you a lot. I could see it when he looked at you.”

Surprisingly Jenny’s comment eased the band of pressure around her chest. “Thank you for saying that. But liking isn’t the same as loving. I love him and that’s not what he wants from me.” She paused and stared into the mug, as if the answers to her questions awaited at the bottom among the few floating tea leaves. “But it’s more than that. I have expectations that he doesn’t think he can fulfill.”

“Like what?”

Cynthia shrugged. “Jonathan didn’t have the same kind of home that we did.”

“Yeah, his was bigger.”

Cynthia actually smiled. The tugging of her mouth into a grin felt awkward, but also good. “Agreed, but I don’t mean that. His parents weren’t like ours. His mother ran off when he was only five and his father ignored him. He was alone in that big house with no one to love him. Because of that he’s afraid to believe that I love him.”

“He’ll change his mind,” her sister said with the confidence of youth. “Now that you’re gone, he’ll miss you a lot and come after you.”

“I would like that very much, but I have my doubts.” She looked at her sister. “Either way, I have a business and a life.” She paused. “Jenny, it’s time for me to move out. Mom is doing much better and I need to be on my own.”

Jenny clutched the mug she held and pressed her lips tightly together. Tears filled her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “Mom already told me. She said that you’d given up too much already by living with us and that you needed a chance to live by yourself.” She sniffed. “But I can still come visit, can’t I?”

“Absolutely. I kinda hoped you’d spend the night with me once in a while. So we can have some girl time together.”

Jenny smiled bravely. “I’d like that. I just wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know.” But Cynthia knew that being on her own would force her to get on with her life. Her hope was that then she would find things to distract her from thoughts of Jonathan. She needed to get on with the business of healing or she would spend the rest of her life wishing for something that was never going to happen.

“Mr. Jonathan, it’s the baby,” Lucinda said, her voice agitated.

Jonathan clutched the receiver as panic filled him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. The little one won’t eat. Mrs. Miller, she tried everything, but he only looks at her and turns his head. I don’t think he’s sick. I think he misses Miss Cynthia. I tried to give him a bottle, but he won’t take it for me, either. He has before, but not now. Mr. Jonathan, you have to come home right away. If he won’t eat for you, then we have to take him to the doctor.”

It was the middle of the workday and he had a full calendar. His meetings ran until eight-thirty that evening. “I’ll be right there,” he said and hung up. Then he buzzed his secretary and informed her that he needed to reschedule everything.

He arrived home less than twenty minutes after Lucinda’s call and jogged into the house. His housekeeper stood at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands in her apron.

“Oh, Mr. Jonathan, it’s so sad. He just looks at me with those big eyes. I think there have been too many changes in his life. It’s not good for the baby.” Her expression turned accusing. “You should have kept Miss Cynthia longer.”

“I don’t doubt you’re right,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

He entered the baby’s room and found Mrs. Miller pacing with Colton in her arms. She turned and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. I don’t usually have a problem getting babies to eat for me, but this little lad is stubborn.”

“It runs in the family,” Jonathan said. “You don’t think he’s ill?”

“No. Just not himself. Although if he won’t eat for you, then I would recommend we get him to the pediatrician right away.”

Jonathan didn’t tell the concerned nanny that he’d never once fed Colton and did not have a clue as to how to do it. But the baby had smiled at him when he entered the room and now held out his arms.

Jonathan walked over to Mrs. Miller and carefully took Colton from his arms. The infant cooed, then relaxed.

“Here.” The nanny handed him a bottle. “See if he’ll take it.”

But there wasn’t a doubt. Colton saw the incoming meal and squealed. He latched onto the nipple firmly and sucked with all his baby might.

“He was hungry,” Mrs. Miller said. “I’m not surprised. He hasn’t eaten since early last evening.” She walked toward the hall. “I’ll just leave you two to finish things up.” And then she was gone.

Jonathan walked over to the rocker in the corner and carefully sat down. He’d held Colton enough not to feel completely awkward about having the baby in his arms. As for the feeding part, he guessed Colton would drink until he was full. He had a vague thought that after the eating there was a burping ritual, but Mrs. Miller could explain that to him. For now it was enough to watch his nephew suck happily.

“You miss her,” Jonathan murmured. “Hell, I miss her, too, but at least I have sense enough to eat.”

Blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jonathan said. “If you won’t take a bottle from Mrs. Miller, what’s going to happen with the issue of solid food? Cynthia said you had to start that pretty soon. I don’t know the first thing about babies, you know. Plus, I have a company to run. I can’t spend all day with you. So we have a really big problem.”

The sucking had grown less frantic. He looked down and saw that Colton had closed one baby fist around the lapel of his jacket and was holding on tight.

Something warm flared to life inside his chest. Something that grew and spread until the heat filled him with an inner peace. At the same time, he felt a fierce protectiveness toward this small life. Colton had no one in the world but him. He, too, was alone. So maybe together they had a chance to matter to each other. After all, they were family.

“I don’t know the first thing about being a father,” Jonathan warned him. “But then I’m guessing your standards aren’t too high. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

He looked at David’s only son. A child of the brother who had stolen from him and tried to have him killed. It was time to put all that behind him, he realized. If he’d really hated his brother, he would have had David arrested months ago, instead of giving him time to change his mind and even, at the last minute, a chance to put the money back. As much as they hadn’t known what to do with the relationship, he and David had been family as well.

Then, for the first time, he bent down and kissed Colton’s forehead. Despite the bottle in his mouth, the baby smiled. Jonathan knew that he was a goner and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Worse, he found he didn’t want to do anything.