Page 1 of The Bachelor's Dilemma

Prologue

November

“I have a son.”

Myles said the words aloud. The reality wasn’t there. The pain was. He tried to focus on the revelation in the letter and ignore the injuries that had landed him in the hospital with months of healing and physical therapy ahead before he was fit again. Shifting slightly, he reread the letter.

The letter was dated three months ago. Why had it taken so long to reach him?

Being on a remote building site in the middle of a Middle Eastern desert probably had a lot to do with it.

Did it matter? Would it have made a difference if it arrived shortly after it was posted? He would still have been in shock. Would it have changed anything? Would he have been on the phone asking questions instead of being near that land mine?

“I have a son and his name is Zachery,” he repeated softly.

“Did you say something?” A nurse poked her head into the room. “Everything okay? Need more painkiller?”

“I’m okay,” he said, impatient with the interruption. He wanted to read the letter again. Try to understand.

He couldn’t take it in. Tiffany Walker had been his steady girlfriend the last time he’d been State side on leave. They’d had a great few months together until he’d accepted another overseas assignment. There had been no great love between them, but he’d enjoyed taking her places where others admired her beauty. To think of her as dead was hard. She’d relished life.

But she’d never contacted him after he’d left. Not even to tell him about their son.

He was grateful to her sister, Brittany, for letting him know, however, delinquent the notice. She explained she’d been against her sister’s decision to keep quiet about the baby. A child should know his father. She’d wrestled with the situation after Tiffany’s death and finally wrote to him, telling him what she knew. He’d railed against fate for Tiffany’s silence. How could she not have told him five years ago she was carrying his child?

At least he had the opportunity and means to locate the boy, his only living relative. That thought was amazing. He’d accepted years ago that he’d probably spend his life alone. He had friends, but no one close. His formative years had been in a series of foster homes. Moving from place to place had taught him not to form attachments. Nothing lasted beyond the next move. His job did nothing to change that as an adult. He was a nomad, no home, no family.

Myles didn’t know when he left the United States almost five years ago that Tiffany had been pregnant. They had used precautions. She’d never contacted him. At first, he thought she might. But his job assignment had been for two years. Tiffany had been a fun-loving party girl. Two years waiting for a man was not her style.

Yet the pregnancy would have changed all that.

She should have told him. Why hadn’t she?

Her sister’s letter also informed him of Tiffany’s death. For that, he was truly sorry. She’d been pretty and vivacious and fun. Which was probably the reason she’d given their son up for adoption. A baby would have definitely cramped her style.

But I could have taken him.

The thought came out of nowhere. Myles didn’t know the first thing about children. He was thirty-four years old and had never seriously thought about getting married or having a family.

His job wasn’t exactly conducive to a happy family—gone two years at a time to inhospitable locales where they fought to bring modern roads and bridges and dams to countries that had progressed little from the beginning of time.

Lying back on the pillows, he tried to imagine his son. The boy would be four now. Myles couldn’t remember back to when he’d been four. He’d already been placed in his first foster home by that age. There had been other children there, but his memories were hazy. What was a four-year-old like?

That led to wondering what the family who had adopted his son was like. Did they think his father had abandoned him? Did they know Myles hadn’t even known of his son’s existence until he’d received this letter a few hours ago?

He’d an overwhelming urge to find his son. See him. Make sure he was happy and well cared for. Even in the foster care system, bad things happened to children. Did adopted families have regular visits from Social Services to make sure the child was being properly looked after? Was Zachery happy and secure in the family that was raising him?

The plan was to send Myles back to the States next week—if he continued to improve. The surgeries had drained him of all energy. He was fighting to recover. But it would be several months before he could return to work. Just maybe he’d have time to find his son to make sure he was all right. To see what he and Tiffany had produced.

Did Zachery have dark hair like his, or was it lighter, like Tiffany’s blond hair? Was he fearful or brave?

Adoptions were usually confidential. Did he really have any hope in the world of finding the child he’d fathered?

He picked up the paper and pen the nurse had provided. The least he could do was thank Brittany for letting him know. It’d been the right thing to do. And maybe it’d given him even more reason for getting fit as soon as possible. He had a son to find.

April

“Here’s the final report.” Earl Adams slid the folder across the desk. “I know it took longer than I originally anticipated, but you know adoption records are hard to access. Here’s what I found out. T. J. and Anna Tucker of New York City adopted your son. I’ve located Mrs. Tucker, the husband has since died. Killed by a drunk driver a year ago.”

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