Who Will Father My Baby?
Donna Clayton
Lacy Rivers could no longer ignore her biological clock. She might have given up on marriage, but motherhood was her destiny. So Lacy chose to approach the one who'd always struck her as the Perfect Man-but this time as a daddy candidate. Only, Dane Buchanan's tragic secret drove her problems out of Lacy's head….Two decades had passed since Dane's fleeting acquaintance with the seductive Lacy Rivers. He'd since learned that parenthood, like love, could bring soul-searing pain-and heart-swelling joy. Was he willing to risk one for a chance at the other?
“I want a baby, Dane.”
Clearly, he tried to control his reaction. But Lacy saw his spine stiffen, his eyes widen the merest fraction. He looked as though he were about to speak. But in the end he didn’t.
“It’s an overwhelming idea, I know.”
“Overwhelming.” His gray eyes were clouded with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. “Lacy, let me get this straight. You’re asking me—”
“To father my child.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re—”
Perfect, she’d nearly said.
“Right.” She left it at that, then whispered, “You’re also my last chance.”
Dear Reader,
You asked for more ROYALLY WED titles and you’ve got them! For the next four months we’ve brought back the Stanbury family—first introduced in a short story by Carla Cassidy on our eHarlequin.com Web site. Be sure to check the archives to find Nicholas’s story! But don’t forget to pick up Stella Bagwell’s The Expectant Princess and discover the involving story of the disappearance of King Michael.
Other treats this month include Marie Ferrarella’s one hundredth title for Silhouette Books! This wonderful, charming and emotional writer shows her trademark warmth and humor in Rough Around the Edges. Luckily for all her devoted readers, Marie has at least another hundred plots bubbling in her imagination, and we’ll be seeing more from her in many of our Silhouette lines.
Then we’ve got Karen Rose Smith’s Tall, Dark & True about a strong, silent sheriff who can’t bear to keep quiet about his feelings any longer. And Donna Clayton’s heroine asks Who Will Father My Baby?—and gets a surprising answer. No Place Like Home by Robin Nicholas is a delightful read that reminds us of an all-time favorite movie—I’ll let you guess which one! And don’t forget first-time author Roxann Delaney’s debut title, Rachel’s Rescuer.
Next month be sure to return for The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride by Martha Shields, the next of the ROYALLY WED series. Also returning are popular authors Judy Christenberry and Elizabeth August.
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
Who Will Father My Baby?
Donna Clayton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Books by Donna Clayton
Silhouette Romance
Mountain Laurel #720
Taking Love in Stride #781
Return of the Runaway Bride #999
Wife for a While #1039
Nanny and the Professor #1066
Fortune’s Bride #1118
Daddy Down the Aisle #1162
* (#litres_trial_promo)Miss Maxwell Becomes a Mom #1211
* (#litres_trial_promo)Nanny in the Nick of Time #1217
* (#litres_trial_promo)Beauty and the Bachelor Dad #1223
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Stand-By Significant Other #1284
† (#litres_trial_promo)Who’s the Father of Jenny’s Baby? #1302
The Boss and the Beauty #1342
His Ten-Year-Old Secret #1373
Her Dream Come True #1399
Adopted Dad #1417
His Wild Young Bride #1441
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Nanny Proposal #1477
** (#litres_trial_promo)The Doctor’s Medicine Woman #1483
** (#litres_trial_promo)Rachel and the M.D. #1489
Who Will Father My Baby? #1507
DONNA CLAYTON
is the recipient of the Diamond Author Award for Literary Achievement 2000, as well as two Holt Medallions. As a child, she marveled at the ability to travel the world, experience swashbuckling adventures and meet amazingly bold and daring people without ever leaving the shade of the huge oak in her backyard. In her opinion, love is what makes the world go ’round.
One of her favorite pastimes is traveling. Her other interests include walking, reading, visiting with friends, teaching Sunday school, cooking and baking, and she still collects cookbooks, too. In fact, her house is overrun with them.
Please write to Donna care of Silhouette Books.
Contents
Prologue (#u154d9bd3-7a84-5db7-b5e1-80c2c48b956d)
Chapter One (#uce81a172-46d2-51a3-ba01-78de72f213e2)
Chapter Two (#u28494b58-44fb-5069-a4f2-02056d021c20)
Chapter Three (#u2826d25f-a7e3-57ce-83af-11ee6053f554)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
“What is it with men and their sperm?” Lacy Rivers sorted through the mail, but she was so distracted that she was going through the morning ritual purely by rote. “Suggest a night of frivolous fun and a man will jump your bones without a second thought. But you just mention the word baby and he acts as if his bodily fluids are more precious than pure gold.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lacy saw Sharon, her friend and administrative assistant, grimace.
“Sorry,” Lacy muttered, realizing the statement was unusually raw even by her own standards. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She knew her brash, “tell it like it is” opinions often did just that to the people around her no matter how well they got to know her. However, Lacy couldn’t help but softly add, “But it is the truth, darn it.”
Always quick to recover from her reactions to her boss’s outspokenness, Sharon grinned. “With all your big talk, a person would think you’ve had your bones jumped quite frequently.” One of her delicate eyebrows arched. “But you and I both know that the exact opposite is the truth.”
“Shh.” Lacy lifted her index finger to her lips. “Don’t go spreading gossip that I’m a good girl. Not when I’m trying to get a man—any man—to father my baby.”
The two women shared soft laughter, but if the truth were to be known, Lacy didn’t feel the least bit amused by her circumstance.
Frustration. That’s what had her feeling so out of sorts this morning. Disappointment fairly pulsed through her veins. The magnitude of it almost—almost—overshadowed the ever-present echo that haunted her…the bone-deep ache that called out from her very soul.
Lacy wanted a baby. She needed to have a child of her own. And she knew that, at thirty-eight, her time was quickly running out. The tick, tick, tick of her biological clock seemed to grow louder with each passing day.
“I guess this gray cloud hanging over you this morning—” as Sharon spoke, she went to the oak credenza and began organizing the contracts that Lacy had piled there to be filed “—means your meeting with Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t go well last night.”
A disgusted sound erupted from Lacy, and the mail she tossed on the desk went skittering and sliding across the wide glass top. “The man acted as if I was asking for his right arm.” She ran agitated fingers though her short locks. “I offered him an iron-clad guarantee in the form of a legal contract stating that I would never ask him for monetary support. I have more than enough to give my child everything he or she might need.”
Sharon cocked her head to one side. “You’re a fantastic businesswoman. That’s why Lacy Webs is so successful. Before you agree to create an Internet site for a customer, you make sure everything is signed and sealed.” The woman’s fist found her hip as she quietly pointed out, “But you can’t contract matters of the heart.”
“This isn’t a matter of the heart,” Lacy said. Unable to repress a sudden bout of humor, she chuckled as she quipped, “It’s a matter of the loins.”
“You’re impossible.” Sharon laughed, shaking her head as she returned to the filing.
Lacy sat pondering. She’d conducted her father-of-her-baby search just as she did her successful business: in a logical and rational manner. She’d developed a list of candidates, and approached each one with the common-sense plan she’d developed. But if Lacy had learned anything over the past months it was that, when it came to donating their sperm, men were neither logical nor rational.
Of course, more than one person had suggested she visit a sperm bank, but she simply couldn’t see herself doing that. The mere idea seemed so cold. Not to mention the horror stories she’d read in the national news of women who had mistakenly been impregnated with the wrong sperm. No, thank you.
“Maybe you should think about getting remarried,” Sharon suggested out of the blue. “Husbands are much more receptive to fatherhood than single guys, you know.”
“I’ve tried happily-ever-after. I’m hopeless at relationships.” The admission, and the defeated feeling it dragged along with it, had Lacy’s voice rushing out in a husky whisper.
Poor Richard. The man—or their two-year marriage—hadn’t stood a chance from the start. Not when Lacy silently-yet-constantly compared her husband to the most perfect man in the whole wide world…
Dane Buchanan.
Now, there was a man. Intelligent. Witty. Interesting. Athletic. Compassionate. Utterly fascinating. And more handsome than words could describe.
Lacy did her best to quell the euphoric shiver that washed over her when she remembered the chemistry she and Dane had shared all those years ago when she had been a freshman, he a senior, in college.
Certainly, if Dane knew about this cavernous ache tormenting her…if he was aware of this mothering instinct that relentlessly squeezed at her heart like a ruthless vise…he would understand. He would empathize. He would help.
Closing her eyes, she easily recalled the overwhelming electricity that coursed through her when Dane had touched her. When he’d kissed her. Even now as she sat at her desk, mere thoughts of the man made her skin prickle with awareness, made her heart thrum a staccato beat.
Thoughts of her perfect man had floated through her head often over the years. But lately, she’d found herself thinking of him during the day—and dreaming of him at night. Those night visions were becoming more and more sensual, more and more erotic each time she closed her—
The clunk of the file drawer closing startled her from her extremely corporeal musings.
“Don’t worry,” Sharon said, her hand on the doorknob as she prepared to leave Lacy’s office. “There’s a man out there just waiting to help you…a man who’s perfect for your needs.” The administrative assistant closed the door behind her as she left the room.
Lacy’s lips parted in surprise, her eyes wide and staring. She was struck by the coincidence of Sharon’s “perfect man” words aligning so completely with her own thoughts.
Coincidence? She blinked once, twice. That was no coincidence. It was a sign. A signal from fate. Hadn’t she just had the thought that Dane would help her if only he’d known of her plight?
Why, for weeks now, her own subconscious mind had been sending her blatant hints in the form of frequent thoughts and lustful dreams of the man. Why hadn’t she realized? Why hadn’t she grasped the meaning of it all?
Immediately, Lacy turned to her computer, maneuvered the mouse and clicked the proper links that would log her onto the Internet. There had to be a way to find Dane Buchanan. There just had to be.
Hope sprang to life in her…a kind of joyous optimism, a gleeful anticipation that she hadn’t felt in months.
Chapter One
An hour of torturous city traffic. Lacy groaned as she automatically reached to turn up the fan on her car’s air conditioner. August was a killer month in Virginia. It wasn’t actually the heat that made a person wilt like a cut flower, but the humidity.
She should have known not to rush out of town on a Friday afternoon. She should have waited until tomorrow morning when all the city employees were sleeping in and the roadways were clear. But she’d been too excited to wait a single minute longer to start her trip.
A mere two days had passed since she had pieced together her frequent thoughts of Dane Buchanan with her desire to have a child. In that time, she was able to find some sketchy information and a home address. But it had been enough to stir her excitement and get her on the road.
It was hard for her to imagine that her encounter with Dane had taken place nearly twenty years ago.
Encounter? A tiny voice in her mind questioned. It had been a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date complete with an end-of-the-evening kiss. A kiss, Lacy remembered, that had almost singed the wooden soles of the clogs she’d been wearing at the time.
Yes, but the facts of what had followed their one enchanted evening together were disillusioning. Dane had never called her. Never asked her out again, even though she’d blatantly suggested it. And when she had seen him on campus, usually in the library, she’d been the one who had made verbal contact. If she hadn’t approached him, he’d have been content with a nodded exchange of greeting. Finally, she’d had to face reality. Dane Buchanan hadn’t been interested in her in the least.
But that kiss…
How could he not have been as affected by it as she had been?
She sighed and gazed over at the map unfolded on the seat beside her. She still had a lengthy drive ahead of her.
To have discovered that he was still in the state had been a surprise. Lacy had explained to Sharon that Dane had the kind of intelligence that would have made him a hot commodity to businesses worldwide. If she remembered correctly, his major had been in one of the sciences. It would be easy to imagine him scouring the rain forests of the Amazon, hunting a cure for cancer. Or nestled away in a laboratory, inventing a new and phenomenal synthetic drug to be used as therapy for Alzheimer’s patients.
Stories about him had raged through the students like a fire gone wild all those years ago. Lacy had been terribly curious. She’d been bold, too, even as a freshman. Her brassy confidence had her asking the senior out for coffee…an offer he’d surprisingly accepted. For hours they had talked while their coffee had grown granite cold.
Dane Buchanan, she’d learned after playing a tough game of twenty questions with the young man, had earned an academic scholarship to an Ivy League university. However, he’d chosen to attend a local college in Richmond in order to be near his ailing father. That information alone had been enough to melt Lacy’s heart. He was president of the senior class, led the debate team to victory and was voted MVP of the football team. His dark good looks as well as his prowess on the football field led to his being approached by a New York modeling agency, and Lacy hadn’t blinked an eye when he’d told her he’d turned down their offer for work. He simply hadn’t seemed the type to flash his smile in front of a camera for money. Lacy smiled at the memory, his obvious embarrassment over the solicitation had been quite charming.
In that one short evening she’d spent with Dane in the café, she’d come to the conclusion that it would be easy for a girl to lose her heart to such a guy. He was everything a girl could want. He had brains. A ton of compassion. He was handsome as the devil. And when they had kissed good-night, Lacy had thought her toes were going to curl up into the arches of her feet!
Soon after that kiss, he’d mysteriously disappeared from the campus for nearly two weeks. And when he’d returned, it was as if their kiss had never happened.
Yes, he spent time with her in the library. On several occasions. He was always friendly, but at the same time, he never initiated contact, no matter how transparent she had made her own desire to date him.
Then a weekly newsmagazine had picked up Dane’s all-around success story. The journalist had dubbed him the Perfect Man, and Lacy had had to agree. She’d considered asking him out on another date, but before she could, final exams were upon her and she never found the opportunity. He graduated. Left the school. And she never saw him again. End of story.
Surely he was married, Sharon had warned Lacy. And she’d had to agree. He probably was. And his wife was certain to have been a Miss America contestant who had given birth to a brood of beautiful children.
Still, something inside Lacy had her braving Friday-evening rush hour in order to drive into rural Virginia to see the man. Maybe—just maybe—Dane Buchanan would live up to his Perfect Man title and become the perfect father. For her child.
“Let’s go into town for dinner tonight.”
Dane Buchanan glanced at the slate-gray sky and then leveled his gaze onto his father-in-law’s whiskered face. “Looks like rain, Alva. Weatherman’s calling for a downpour. You know how that creek is. We should be here to check the herd. Besides, I’ve got two steaks thawed in the fridge for us.”
“Aw, we have steak every Friday,” the older man complained as he latched the door of the barn. “A little rain never hurt nobody. Let’s chance it. Live a little. Couldn’t you go for a plate full of Lottie’s cheesy lasagna? I feel like some Italian food tonight.”
Dane dipped his head, suppressing a smile. He loved the way Alva said that word…with a long I, like in idea. The whole population of Italy would probably have taken offense. But of course Alva meant none. He was simply a good-hearted southern boy who spoke just like everyone else below the Mason-Dixon Line.
He suspected Alva’s hankering for pasta had less to do with lasagna and more to do with his wanting Dane and Lottie to have a chance to “keep company.” His father-in-law would probably be surprised to discover that Dane had figured out his plan, but Alva had been trying to fix him up for the past year. Before Lottie, it had been Cindy at the post office. And before Cindy, it had been Lorraine, the organist at the local Methodist church. It was clearly Alva’s opinion that Dane had been a widower long enough.
It was peculiar, Dane thought, that the father of the woman he’d married, the woman who had died so tragically because of his stupidity, would be doing everything possible to nudge other females into his path.
“Oregano upsets my stomach,” Dane told Alva. “Upsets yours, too. And Lottie uses the herb rather liberally in her cooking. You know that.”
“We could ask her to fry us some hamburgers. I’m sure she would.” He nudged Dane with his elbow. “I think she’s kinda sweet on you.”
Dane just shook his head. “Steak and a baked potato will do me just fine. And I’ve got chocolate pudding for dessert.” He pushed himself away from the fence and stretched the kinks out of his back, knowing full well his father-in-law would never be able to resist his favorite sweet. “But you go on into town, if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Alva yielded. “Steak sounds good.” His grin made his mouth go crooked, his eyes glisten. “I didn’t know you made pudding. I’ll just run on home and grab a shower. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes, so go ahead and fire up that grill.”
Both men turned at the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
“Didn’t know you were expecting company.”
The candy-apple-red sports car had Dane’s eyebrows drawing together with curiosity. “I’m not. You?”
The short exchange was silly, really. The men worked side by side every day. They had no secrets. If Alva was going to entertain a visitor, Dane would have known about it and vice versa.
The car came to a halt in front of Dane’s brick rancher, about a hundred feet from where the men stood outside the door of the utility shed. A woman emerged from the automobile and made straight for the house, the sun haloing her short, flaxen hair.
“Woo-whee!”
Alva whispered under his breath, although at this distance there was no chance the woman could have heard him.
“Cute little thing, ain’t she?”
Cute was an accurate description. But little? Dane nearly chuckled. Her body was as curvaceous as a country road, seeming to invite a man to meander along the soft hills and valleys. And she was tall. With yards of tanned, shapely legs that tapered into sexy ankles.
Suddenly the August air became so hot he thought it just might scorch his lungs…if he could remember to pull a lungful of the stuff into his chest, that was.
“I’ll take your stunned silence as a yes.”
Alva laughed softly and gave Dane another poke with his elbow, breaking what could only have been described as some kind of strange, mesmerizing spell.
“She’s most likely selling something,” he grumbled. Dane did his best to hide the embarrassment he was feeling at being the butt of Alva’s humor. “Probably wants me to buy a set of encyclopedias, or some magazine subscriptions, or life insurance.”
“Well, boy,” Alva advised, “you’d best go take care of the matter. I’m off to find a cool shower and some clean clothes.”
His father-in-law’s comment made Dane suddenly aware of the dirt on his jeans, the dust coating his hot skin. Why something so trivial should rear up to bother him now seemed unfathomable. He’d worked hard today. Just as he did every day. Sweat and grime came with the territory of running a cattle business. There wasn’t much a man could do about that.
The woman was on his porch now, her hand raising to knock on the front door. Dane took a step toward the house.
“I’ll see you in a…” His words petered out when he saw that Alva had already disappeared around the shed to take the path that led to his cedar-shingled bungalow just over the rise.
Long strides had him across the grassy patch standing between him and the front porch in no time flat. Shifting his hat back from his forehead a fraction, he called, “Can I help you?”
She spun on the narrow heel of her skimpy little sandal. “Hi,” she said.
Her smile flashed bright as the summer sun, a direct contradiction to the steely clouds gathering overhead. Dane was struck with the oddest notion that he knew this woman.
“I’m looking for…”
The rest of her sentence trailed as she took a step toward him, recognition seeming to light her big blue eyes.
“Dane? Dane Buchanan?”
His heart jackhammered, and he wanted nothing more than to blame the long hours of hard work, or the heat from the summer day, but he’d be lying to himself if he did.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Her voice had a lilting quality that started his memories churning—magnificent memories that he’d locked away in a vault years ago.
The pale pink lacquer on her long nails stood out against the royal blue of her blouse when her palm spread-eagled against her chest. “It’s me. Lacy.”
Lacy Rivers. His mouth seemed to draw into a smile of its own volition.
The years had changed her. She had filled out in all the right places. Cut off that glorious hair of hers. She looked polished. Businesslike. With a sexy edge that would drive a man wild. Much more sophisticated than the brash young woman in his memory.
The brash, fresh-as-a-spring-breeze girl who had nearly unraveled his well-laid plans all those years ago.
The thought thundered through his brain, crushing the warm, fuzzy memories, shocking the smile right off his lips.
“Lacy Rivers,” she continued. “Please don’t say you’ve completely forgotten me.”
He took the steps slowly, doing what he could to gather his wits as he went.
All he was able to say was, “How could I forget?” He took off his hat with one hand and reached the other out to her. She took it in both of hers, and he couldn’t decide if the sweat that prickled his forehead was from the oppressive heat and humidity…or the searing intensity of her skin against his.
Dane hoped like hell it was due to the soaring temperatures.
Her nails lightly grazed the outside of his wrist and the inside of his callused palm at the same time, and something deep inside him had him wondering how the hard length of them would feel on other parts of his body; his bare back, shoulders, arms and neck.
The notion so surprised him that he choked, jerking his hand out of her grip. He coughed once, and in an attempt to cover the awkwardness of the moment, he cuffed his fist against his chest.
“You okay?” Worry clouded her gorgeous sky-blue eyes.
“Fine, fine,” he said, taking a step back in retreat. He felt an overwhelming need to put a little distance between them. So he could think. Try to make sense of these strange thoughts invading his mind.
“It’s hot out here, and I’m feeling dry. I need something to drink.” A stiff shot of whiskey was what he needed to steady this odd shock that had walloped him but good. He opened the screen door and inserted the key into the dead bolt. “Can I get you something? I’ve got lemonade. Iced tea. Beer—”
“A beer would be great.” She pulled back on the screen door, taking the weight of it off his shoulder.
He twisted to face her, and she was so…close. The blue of her eyes was dazzling. The tip of her nose was appealing. The bow of her top lip was calling his name…luring him….
He swallowed. “Actually, it may be hot out here, but it’ll be worse inside. I don’t leave the air-conditioning turned on when I’m gone through the day. It’ll take a few minutes for the house to cool off.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “In that case—” she took a backward step “—I’ll wait here in the shade of the porch.”
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
He shoved open the door and, heaving a huge sigh, made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. He plunked his hat down onto the counter and turned on the water spigot. After he worked the soap into plenty of suds, he rinsed his hands and forearms. He splashed cool water onto his face and neck, and then took a moment to simply stand in the quiet.
All that could be heard was an intermittent splat as droplets of water fell from his chin and nose. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. But the chaos of his thoughts couldn’t be held at bay for long, and curiosity had him shoving himself away from the sink. What was Lacy Rivers doing here? After all this time.
Well, he wasn’t going to discover anything while he was hiding here in the kitchen.
He dried his face and hands, and then pulled open the refrigerator door. The beer bottles felt cool against his palms. On his way back through the house, he stopped to turn up the central air. Then he pushed his way back out onto the porch.
Perfect porcelain knees. That’s what met his gaze the second he exited the house. She reclined in one of the two rocking chairs on the porch, her bare, sun-kissed legs crossed, one slender foot swinging lazily, the hem of her skirt rising just enough to offer him a tempting peek at her well-contoured thighs. The pale pink paint that coated the tips of her toes matched that on her fingernails and made her feet look delicate and sexy as hell.
Seemed as if all his eyes wanted to do was examine the cute little dimples below her kneecaps, rove over those lusciously sculpted calves, shapely ankles, narrow feet. He dragged his gaze to her face only to become enthralled by her full bottom lip, that perfect nose, her brilliant, azure eyes.
The woman was like a beautiful sorceress who had ensnared him in some sort of spell. But Dane knew the only enchantment going on here had to do with the curse of his runaway libido. It was as simple as that.
“You are finished for the day, aren’t you?” she asked. “I’d hate to think I was keeping you from your work.”
“The cattle are taken care of,” he said, twisting off the top of one bottle and offering it to her. At that moment, he was struck by a thought. “I’m sorry. I should have brought you a glass.”
She shook her head, her silky blond locks bobbing. “This is fine. Thanks.”
He continued, “There’s always some chore waiting to be done around the place. But I’ve put in enough hours. I’m all through for today.”
“Good,” she said, then glanced around her. “Nice spread you’ve got.”
“Thanks.” He lowered himself into the matching rocker, pausing long enough to take a swig of beer. The cold, yeasty brew felt marvelous rolling down his throat. “I’m half owner. My father-in-law owns the other half. We’re partners.”
“You’re married?”
“Was. Helen died some years ago.”
She murmured a compassionate response, empathy flooding her face, softening her already stunning features, and Dane thought his heart was going to jump right out of his chest.
He accepted her sympathy with a nod, unable to bring himself to reply further. That part of his life was hard to even remember, let alone talk about. The conversation sagged for a few awkward seconds.
“Those cows out there in the pasture sure are pretty,” she said.
Dane couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from deep in his chest. “I’ve never heard Black Angus described as pretty before. Strong, maybe. Healthy. But never pretty.”
She lifted the beer, pressed her soft, glistening lips to the bottle’s rim and took a drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off the spot where her mouth met the smooth brown glass. Before he realized it, she was smiling at him again.
His tongue and throat felt as arid as a dusty cow trail, and he wondered if he was suffering a bout of sunstroke or something. What the hell was the matter with him?
Quick wit sparkled in her pretty baby blues. “I was only trying to offer you a compliment.”
He nodded. “I appreciate it. We breed them, you know. So your praise is well taken.”
Alva’s beat-up truck rolled over the hill then, and Dane couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice as he commented, “There’s my father-in-law now. I’d better go see what he’s up to.”
He stood, and so did Lacy.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’d like to use your powder room. I’ve been on the road a good while.”
“Sure,” he told her. “It’s—”
“I’ll find it.” With a wink and a quick flash of a smile, she disappeared into the house.
That flirtatiousness caused a series of warm vibrations to trill through Dane’s innards. He sucked air into his lungs, hoping to settle himself, and then he flagged Alva to a stop as he descended the porch steps on wobbly knees. Boy, oh, boy, his father-in-law would tease him for a month of Sundays if he got wind of the ridiculous reaction Dane was having to Miss Lacy Rivers.
“Where are you off to?” he asked Alva. “I thought—”
“I changed my mind,” the older man said. “I want some lasagna. And I’ve reached the age where I should certainly have what I want. Hellfire, Dane, I might die in my sleep tonight, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”
Alva’s ruffled feathers didn’t fool Dane. He knew what the man was up to.
One of his eyebrows arched high as he accused, “So, you’re just going to leave me here in the clutches of an encyclopedia salesman?”
The delighted sound Alva emitted could almost have been described as a wicked cackle. “Saleswoman, don’t you mean, boy?” He paused long enough to grin. “You should buy yourself a set of books. A little reading never hurt any man.”
Dane only shook his head at his father-in-law’s antics.
Then Alva’s knowing gaze sobered. “But she ain’t selling anything, is she?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, eyeing the door of Dane’s house. “The two of you looked…familiar sitting on the porch together as I drove up.”
“Familiar?” Dane’s forehead knitted. “That’s a strange word to use.”
Alva shrugged. “You do know her, though, don’t you?”
“Sort of,” he had to admit. “We went to the same college together. But that was a lifetime ago.”
“So the two of you have plenty of catching up to do,” Alva surmised. “You don’t need me hanging around. And it’s getting late. Be a gentleman. Invite the little lady to dinner. She can have my steak.”
“You don’t need to do this—”
“I told you,” the old man interrupted Dane’s protest, his grumpy tone back full force, “I feel like having Lottie’s lasagna tonight.”
Dane only shook his head. There was no changing the man’s mind once it was set. “Well, I hope you’ve got some antacid tablets in your medicine chest. You’re going to need them later.”
“Aw, now, you know my stomach is clad in iron.”
“You’re gonna wish it was,” Dane quipped as he stepped back from the truck.
More laughter rumbled from Alva. “You have fun chattering about old times.”
The truck tires kicked up grit and pebbles as he pulled off down the lane.
Hunger pangs pinched Dane’s stomach and he turned back toward his home. In that instant, Lacy opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch.
“It’s got to be close to your dinnertime,” she called to him. “Let’s go into town and find something to eat.” Then she added, “It’ll be on me.”
Her tone made him pause. That coaxing quality in her voice was enough to lead him to believe she was up to something. But that thought was pretty silly. He didn’t even know Lacy Rivers. And she sure didn’t know him. They hadn’t seen each other in years and years. If she was up to anything, he sure was stumped over figuring out what it could possibly be.
“Maybe she does want you to buy some encyclopedias.” He murmured the words under his breath as he started toward her, doing his best to contain the humorous grin that the idea churned up.
“Pardon?”
He did chuckle then, taking the stairs two at a time. “I said, you don’t have to buy dinner. Besides, there isn’t a decent meal to be had in Oak Flat.”
“It is a small town, isn’t it?” she commented. “As I drove through, I noticed a diner, a post office, a small grocery store and a church. Not much else.”
“Sounds like you won’t be needing the grand tour. You already took it.”
“Hmm…I was hoping to find a hotel…”
He was vaguely aware of the concern shadowing her expression, but something more urgent called his attention.
What was that scent? An enticing, exotic aroma he couldn’t put a name to. But whatever it was, it had his blood pounding. He swiveled his head, inhaling slowly, deeply, and he realized the perfume was floating on the air around Lacy. The sensuous fragrance made his gut tighten.
The sensation overtaking him was so…odd. He drove agitated fingers through his hair.
“I am hungry,” he admitted, louder than he’d meant, wanting to focus on something—anything—other than her…other than the stirring and utterly unique scent of her. “I’ve got steaks for the grill, if you’d like to stay for dinner.” He eyed her warily. “You’re not vegetarian, are you?”
She grinned, and the dimple that formed in her left cheek caused a whirlwind of memories to buffet his mind. He remembered that sexy dimple. How he’d liked to make her smile just so he could see it. He remembered other things, too. The conversations they’d shared, filled with interest and fun. The utterly spontaneous laughter. The serious debates. That kiss…
He shoved the dangerous thoughts from him.
“I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of girl.”
“Good,” he said. “We’ve got plenty of that around here. Let me fire up the coals, and while they’re burning to embers, I’ll grab a quick shower. Then, over dinner, you can tell me what brings you to Oak Flat.”
Before too long he left Lacy Rivers in the kitchen washing the fresh greens that would make the salad she’d insisted on helping with.
In the bathroom, he stripped out of his clothes and turned on the shower. Full blast.
Memories bombarded his brain. The indecision he’d suffered. The worry. The temptation. The sleepless nights he’d spent praying for resolve. The fear that he wouldn’t have the strength to do the right thing. But in the end he had. He’d succeeded in putting his own frivolous and selfish desires aside.
But Lacy had come back into his life. And as the cool water sluiced down his body, he couldn’t help but conclude that he was once again experiencing the same reaction—or should he say the same uncontrollable attraction—he’d had to this woman all those years ago.
Chapter Two
The steak had been grilled to perfection. The baked potato was light and fluffy, drizzled with the perfect amount of rich butter. The salad was crisp and cool, the homemade balsamic vinaigrette making it utterly…perfect.
And so was Dane Buchanan. Just as perfect as she had recalled him being.
During her drive to Oak Flat, Lacy had worried that her memory of the man might somehow have been glorified by the passing years, that she’d made him larger than life in her mind. But she’d discovered over dinner that he was as honest, intelligent, hardworking and down-to-earth as she remembered. And there simply wasn’t a more perfect physical specimen of a man to be found, she was sure.
His face was leaner, more honed than she remembered. The smile lines bracketing his mouth, fanning out from his eyes, gave him a remarkable appeal even her wildest imaginings had failed to conjure. His thick thatch of coal-black hair was shiny and Lacy found herself wanting to comb her fingers through the hints of silver at his temples. The years had transformed him physically into quite a man. Quite a man, indeed.
But what hadn’t changed one iota were his eyes. She’d been fascinated by his smoky-gray gaze twenty years ago. Enthralled by the curiosity that had danced there, the vigorous light that flashed and caught her up in the energy that had seemed to pulse from him back then.
Those sooty orbs still ignited with uncontainable liveliness as she coerced him to tell her about his day-to-day life breeding and raising Angus cattle. He had a wonderful way of expressing the joy he found in what seemed the most mundane of chores. And she found herself just as swept away by him, just as mesmerized by his joie de vivre now as she had been when they’d attended college together. She listened in wonder as he described the spring calving season and all the sleepless anxiety and miracle of new life that came with it. And summer hay cultivation had kept him busy from sunup to sundown until just recently. He made the mowing, raking and baling sound almost fun, although she imagined it had to be hot, rigorous work.
A couple of times he’d tried to inquire about the reason behind her arrival, but she’d successfully parried his questions. She wasn’t quite ready to blurt out her motivation for coming to see him. Not just yet.
Not only did she feel unprepared, but she also continued to be overwhelmed with desperation. The feeling kept rolling over her in a wavelike fashion. The anxiety welling in her brought a dread she wasn’t used to. She was a successful businesswoman. And she hadn’t gotten that way feeling apprehensive or fearful. She’d landed at the top by identifying terrific opportunities when they presented themselves…and by taking full advantage of those opportunities.
Dane Buchanan was the opportunity of a lifetime, in her estimation. But she couldn’t allow this chance to slip from her grasp by shocking him with her request too soon. She needed to ease into this. Garnering his trust, renewing their friendship, had to come first. She had every intention of doing this right.
The other men she’d approached about fathering a child for her had been people she had known as friends, or through friends or her business. And those associations had helped her to make her plea, given her an opening, a place to start. But the connection she had with Dane was twenty years old. And she didn’t even know how well he remembered their times together. How would the poor man react to having some stranger from his past marching into his home out of the blue, asking him for a sample of his sperm?
If she couldn’t fathom the scenario herself, how in the world would he?
She needed to take her time. Ease into this.
However, the words that would incite his sympathy in her plight as well as obtain his help had better come to her. Fast. Because, her mind warned, you don’t have a whole lot in the way of time. You can only stall the man for so long.
And as proof that the thought was nothing but dead on, he chose that moment to lean toward her, level a direct gaze on her face and ask, “So what was it that made you look me up after all these years, Lacy?”
Renewed panic swelled inside her. Frantically, she did what she could to tamp it down. But she could do nothing to quell the deep maternal yearning that plagued her soul. Her success here was more important to her than any business venture she’d ever strived for, any success she’d ever achieved.
Lacy literally blanched at the thought. She knew how intense, how terribly profound, her longing was to become a mother…to birth, to hold, to care for, to raise, to love a child of her own. She’d described it to her friends as being marrow-deep. But the fear pulsing through her at this moment, the chill the thought of failure brought, made her recognize that filling this hole in her, satisfying her mothering instinct, was more important than anything she’d ever needed or done or accomplished in her whole life. In that instant, she realized she’d never be complete without a child.
She also realized the extreme anguish she faced…if Dane were to refuse her request.
His gray gaze had darkened with concern as he reached across the table, his work-roughened palm warm, almost comforting, as it slid over top her hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.”
The physical contact made her blink, and she forced her eyes to remain open as she battled the wave upon wave of energy that coursed up her arm—over every inch of her skin—as her body reacted to his touch.
Her lips were cottony dry, and she moistened them. She had no idea how long she’d been silent…or how long she’d been wrapped up in her own desperation.
“I’m all right.” She picked up her glass of water, noticing the slight tremble of her fingers, and took a gulp. “You must think I’m crazy,” she said after setting down the glass. “Coming here unannounced. After so much time.”
“I don’t think that at all.” He relaxed against the back of the kitchen chair. “I will admit to being curious. I mean, it has been a lot of years.”
She paused a moment, her mind going completely blank. How could she ever explain herself to him? He was going to hear what she had in mind, and he’d go screaming and running into the night. When they had sat down at the table to eat, rain had begun to ping against the kitchen windowpane, but Lacy doubted the weather would stop the man from fleeing the situation should he decide to do so.
Dane was sure to react adversely to her idea. All the other men had, hadn’t they?
She wanted to give herself a swift kick. She wouldn’t get anywhere thinking such negative thoughts.
With her eyes glued to the window, she murmured, “You see, I’ve been searching for the perfect man—”
His loud groan cut her words to the quick.
“You’re not a journalist, are you?” he asked, suspicion varnishing his tone until it was sharp and burnished. “Twice over the years, I’ve had reporters hunt me down about that stupid article that was written about me during college. And I don’t mind telling you, both times I’ve refused to be interviewed.”
The subject of their conversation had twisted out of shape so suddenly that Lacy was taken off guard.
“No,” she assured him. “I’m not here to do a story on you.”
He looked visibly relieved. “That whole thing was such a crock. I can’t believe that idiot reporter printed that story back then.” Almost to himself, he said, “That silly article nearly kept Helen from marrying me.”
“Well, I thought it was a wonderful article,” Lacy told him. She couldn’t have stopped the words from tumbling off her tongue even if she’d wanted to. “Very flattering.”
“Too flattering,” he spat out. “The adulation was so overdone that the whole piece bordered on obsequious. It was downright obnoxious with its sugary depiction of me and my life. If I’d have been diabetic, I’d have gone into insulin shock.”
The venom that oozed from his words, his expression, his whole body stance, took her completely by surprise. Although she couldn’t say why, his strong reaction annoyed her.
“But it was all true, wasn’t it?” She blurted out the question, sure that she knew the answer already. “Every fact in that article was correct.”
He refused to relent. “Come on, Lacy. The Perfect Man? No one is perfect. Especially me.” His face screwed up as if he’d bit into something bitter. “The whole mess made me look damn pompous. I was relieved that the magazine hit the stands so late in the school year. I was never so glad to be away from a place as I was that university. That town. I’m not a conceited person, Lacy. And I hated being made to look like one.”
She fingered the linen napkin draped across her lap. “It never dawned on me that you might feel that way about it. In fact, all these years I never imagined that you’d be anything but proud of the title.”
Dane shook his head. “You have no idea how that title nearly ruined all my plans.”
As soon as Lacy heard the statement, she remembered how, when she’d made her final blatant attempt to encourage him to ask her out, he’d stressed to her his intent to carry out a certain plan he had for his life. She’d wondered about it at the time, but he’d kept his statements vague and she never did discover exactly what that plan involved.
“I arrived home after graduation,” he continued, “to find my fiancée waving that magazine at me and insisting that our getting married was a mistake. It took me six months to convince Helen otherwise.” Under his breath he added, “I’ve never been a violent man, but if that reporter had been within reach, I’d have beaten the daylights out of him more than once.”
“You were engaged back then?” Surprise was evident in her tone, and she was terribly relieved that it masked the hurt that welled up in her.
His gray eyes averted from her face as he nodded silently, awkwardness seeming to settle on his broad shoulders.
The news was like a bolt from the blue—a bolt that burned and ripped at the very heart of her. “When you took me out? When we…”
Kissed was the word teetering on her tongue, but it petered out before actually forming. She felt stunned. Wounded.
“No.” His answer was emphatic, his gaze conveying a steeling assurance as he shook his head. “Not when I took you out. But directly after.”
For a moment, he looked as if he had more to say on the subject. But the moment passed, and he remained silent.
She remembered his disappearance after their date, surmised that this had been the time when their paths had veered from one another. What she’d wanted to do was ask, once he’d returned to campus, why he hadn’t told her that he’d been spoken for. That he was in love with another woman. No wonder he hadn’t nibbled any of the bait she’d tossed out at him. He’d been a fish that had already been caught. She felt embarrassed by the way she’d practically thrown herself at him all those years ago.
His words sunk into the chaos of her thoughts. It took me six months to convince Helen….
Why a man like Dane Buchanan would have to convince a woman to marry him was beyond Lacy.
“So we’ve ruled out the profession of writer,” he said, reaching up to lazily scratch a spot on his chin. “What do you do for a living? You were such a go-getter, I knew you’d reach the top of whatever ladder you chose to climb.”
She thanked her lucky stars that he seemed to have forgotten his original question regarding the purpose behind her showing up on his doorstep. Being no fool, she jumped on his question with both feet.
“I own an Internet consulting business,” she told him. “Lacy Webs. We snare customers for you.” She grinned as she recited the familiar words. “Our jingle. And, of course, our logo depicts a tiny spider in a frilly web.”
He nodded, his eyes lighting with sincere interest.
“I worked for a computer firm for a few years. Then, I started building Internet sites for friends on the World Wide Web.” She reached up and toyed with her small diamond stud earring. Finally, she shrugged. “My business just took off. Before I knew it, I had landed my first corporate account. My parttime, ‘for fun’ job turned into an instant career. I create commercial sites. For businesses offering services or selling merchandise online. Bank sites have sort of become my specialty. Although I’ve had my fingers in everything—hospitals, universities, retail chains. You name it.” Her smile brimmed with satisfaction. “I’ve got more clients than I can handle, and I’ve been forced to increase my staff every year for the past five years. It’s been great.”
“Well, that’s wonderful,” he said, his words soft and genuine. “Like I said, I knew you’d go far. In whatever field you chose. I just knew it.”
His praise made her flush with delight.
The reaction was funny, really. As well as surprising. She’d never felt the need for someone else’s approval or admiration. Knowing her business was a success, and that she’d walked every step of the way on her own, that had always been enough for her. It might be silly, but hearing his good opinion of her made her feel, well, it made her feel…worthy.
The commendation he gave her not only felt nice, it revealed something to her as well. He’d thought about her. Maybe not often, but she’d been on his mind enough for him to decide these things about her. That idea thrilled the dickens out of her!
She didn’t have time to stop and wonder why.
His slate eyes twinkled merrily as he leaned toward her again. “So, you never said what it was that made you think of me after nearly twenty years.”
“I didn’t, did I?” There it was again. That whirlwind of nerves churning in her belly. “W-well,” she began, “as I said, I—I was looking for the perfect man…”
His handsome face pinched with something akin to physical pain. “And I already told you, he doesn’t exist.”
Emitting a weak laugh, she had to admit, “When I began my search for him, you hadn’t yet come to mind, actually.”
He looked surprised. As well as put in his place. She hadn’t meant the remark in that vein, but he’d taken it that way just the same, she could tell.
“You see…” She reached up and smoothed her thumb over the shiny handle of the spoon sitting by her plate. “I’m working on…well, on this project. And I’ve been hunting for the perfect man…to…um, help me…reach my goal.”
Dane remained silent and still, just waiting, and listening as she haltingly stuttered through her explanation. The intensity of his focus made her all the more nervous.
“I’d gone through every single male on my list,” she continued. “And I was feeling pretty frustrated, too.” Her chuckle was dusty dry. “It was kind of funny, really, how I finally came to the conclusion that you might be able to help me. I’d been thinking about you—”
And having these incredible dreams about you. But she didn’t dare reveal that bit of information.
“—more and more often lately. And when Sharon…she’s my assistant…suggested that surely there was a perfect man out there to fa—” she caught herself in the nick of time, changing the word slightly “—f-for my project. Those words…the perfect man…finally helped me to connect my subconscious thoughts of you with…well, with a possible answer to…th-this project I’m working on.”
From his expression, it was clear he wasn’t feeling much more enlightened than he’d been a moment before. Why would he be when her clarification had been so darned convoluted and muddled?
“Lacy, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t know squat about the Internet.” He shook his head. “I do have a computer. To keep the accounting records straight. But I’ve never logged on to the Internet, let alone surfed it, so I don’t know how I could be of any help to you—”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the Internet, or computers for that matter.” She stopped long enough to moisten her lips. “It has nothing to do with my business at all.” Adrenaline surged through her. Unwittingly, her chin dipped, and without even realizing it, she gazed up at him quite timidly. “Dane, th-this is…this is—” her throat convulsed in a swallow “—well, it’s personal.”
He watched her even more closely now. Then, without a word, he placed his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his laced fingers. It was a sign, she was sure. His way of indicating that he was paying strict attention to what she was about to say.
Thunder rumbled across the sky overhead. The rain beat harder against the glass. Lacy took those as signs, too. Ominous ones.
“There’s no other way to say this,” she began, “other than just…spitting it out.” Anxiety prickled over her skin like a thorn-encrusted sweater, thoroughly flushing her with an uncomfortable heat.
This case of uncontrollable nerves was overwhelming as well as frustrating. She knew in her heart she wasn’t a shy woman. She was bold. She was daring. Confident. But so much was riding on his reaction to the request she was about to make. He could so easily dash all her hopes with one small no.
But she wouldn’t receive an answer, negative or affirmative, if she didn’t explain her need to him. Pressing her lips together, she took a careful breath. She swallowed. And then she forced herself to reveal, “I want a baby.”
Clearly, he tried to control his reaction. But she saw his spine stiffen, his eyes widen the merest fraction. A dozen different thoughts were crashing around in his head. She could see that by the astonishment raging in his eyes. He looked as though he was about to speak. But in the end he didn’t. His forehead puckered and his head gave a slow, almost imperceptible shake.
“It’s an overwhelming idea, I know.”
“Overwhelming.” He repeated the word, gazing off into a far corner of the room. When his gray eyes found her again, they were clouded with a myriad of thoughts and emotions. “Lacy, let me get this straight. You’re asking me—”
“To father my child,” she finished for him.
His chest deflated as he exhaled. His dark head shook yet again. “I know I’m not stupid. I guessed your meaning immediately, but having it spelled out doesn’t make it any more believable, Lacy. Or understandable.” His face expressed a mixture of shock and bewilderment. His shoulders lifted as he said, “I have to ask. Why me?”
“Because you’re—”
Perfect, she’d nearly said. But she stopped herself, knowing now how much he had detested the description when it had been used years ago.
“—right.” She left it at that. She whispered, “You’re also my last chance.”
“Oh, now…” He shoved his way out of the chair and paced to the counter, where he turned and stared at her. “Don’t do that. Don’t use guilt. That’s not right. Or fair. I haven’t seen you in—”
“I know. I know.” She lifted her hand, palm out, hoping to appease him. Putting him on the defensive would do nothing to help her cause. “I was wrong to say that. I’m sorry.”
His arms crossed protectively over his chest, his shoulders seemed to tighten, his whole body seemed to shrink from her. From the whole idea she was asking him to consider.
“This is crazy. Total lunacy.”
She didn’t know if he was speaking the words to her or to himself, so softly were they uttered.
“Dane, I’m thirty-eight,” she explained. “Time is running out for me. My biological clock is ticking away. I’m surprised you can’t hear it from where you’re standing. Lord knows, I can hear it. Every moment of every day. My chances of having a healthy baby are dwindling with each month that passes.”
She could practically see the thoughts spinning in his mind.
Suddenly he blurted, “You’re a beautiful woman. Obviously successful. Why aren’t you married?” His gaze narrowed suddenly. “You do like men, don’t you? I mean, you prefer them?”
Lacy nearly laughed at his insinuation. But she didn’t dare. She was certain he found nothing even remotely funny about this situation. Come to think of it, neither did she.
“Yes, Dane,” she answered him quietly. “I like men. I prefer them.”
“So—” his hands flew up in the air and his tone rose “—why aren’t you married? Why aren’t you going about this in the regular, normal manner?”
She sighed. Hadn’t she been asked this same question over and over?
“I was married,” she quietly admitted. “It didn’t work out. Richard and I…”
She let the sentence trail. Dane wasn’t interested in what had happened between her and her husband. He was only interested in an answer to his question.
“I’d have loved to go about this in the conventional way.” She paused, the wistfulness in her tone startling her. However, she was too intent on explaining her circumstance to dwell on what it might mean.
She continued, “But that just didn’t happen for me.” As an aside, she softly offered, “To tell you the honest truth, I think my success has a lot to do with the way I’ve been forced to go about this.”
Before she could say more, he blurted, “Lacy, you don’t even know me. Nearly twenty years have gone by since we went to college together. Twenty years! How do you know I haven’t turned out to be a bad person? Why, for all you know, I could be a violent drunk. A brute. A derelict. Or a—”
“But you’re not,” she cut him off. “Are you? You’re none of those things. You’re an honest, hardworking man. When we were acquainted in college, I knew you were intelligent, you were talented, you were energetic. A high achiever. I felt, then, that you could have reached the moon, if that’s what you decided you wanted to do.” Stubbornly, she tipped up her chin. “And just as leopards don’t change their spots, a man’s DNA doesn’t change, either.”
Her bravado had returned. The realization made her nearly giddy with joy and relief. That odd bout of shyness may have hindered her for a while, may have made raising the issue a little more difficult, but now that the topic was out in the open her fighting instincts had better rise to the surface or she was going to come away from this empty-handed.
Empty-handed. Glancing down at her bare and vacant arms, she was deluged with desperation at the thought of never holding a sweet baby. But she pushed the anxiety aside. Now wasn’t the time for hopelessness. Now was the time for ultimate persuasion.
“Those great traits I knew you had—” she looked him directly in the eyes “—the traits I know you still have…I want them. For my child.”
She refused to act apologetic about what she would like for her son or daughter. Who didn’t want a child who was creative and smart and talented and ambitious? Surely he would understand her feelings.
“But, but…” Obviously agitated, he turned away from her, raking his fingers through his hair. Then he faced her again, total incomprehension plain in his eyes. “How can you ask this of a total stranger?”
She sat for a moment, wanting—no, willing—the quiet, the stillness, to become noticeable. She must make him understand her feelings. The importance of this had to be made undeniably clear.
The seconds ticked by, but she didn’t take her gaze from his. Finally, she unashamedly admitted, “Because I’m that desperate.”
Chapter Three
Negativity. Denial. Refusal.
He was going to turn her down. That much was plainly expressed in the shadows clouding his eyes. Written on the taut planes of his handsome face. Drawn in the rigid lines of his body.
“Don’t say no just yet.” The words burst from her throat, the despair squeezing her tone sickening her as panic surged seemingly out of nowhere. “Let’s clean up the dishes. Make some coffee.” As she spoke, she rose and started snatching flatware, plates, glasses. “Didn’t you say you’d made dessert? I’d love something sweet. How about you?”
She didn’t dare look at him. Didn’t dare allow her momentum to slow. She had to stay one step ahead of him. If she didn’t, he’d surely catch up to her. He’d surely put a stop to all her hopes and dreams.
Whirling around, she raced to the sink. And as she set the dishes and cutlery on the counter, one of the water tumblers tapped against the edge of the porcelain sink.
Glass shattered, and Lacy was aware of pain. And blood.
A gasp escaped from her lips.
“What did you do?”
Dane was at her side before she had time to draw breath. And in that instant, it felt to Lacy as if the experience became dreamlike, surreal. As if she’d stepped outside her body, moved to the sideline to watch the scene transpire before her.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” he whispered, seemingly to himself.
The warmth of his fingers encircling her wrists. The worry planted in his forehead. The concern darkening his gaze to a steely gray.
Although she registered all these things—her body reacting, her heart melting, her knees quaking—she couldn’t seem to make her muscles work, couldn’t seem to voice the thoughts running through her head.
His touch was so gentle as he inspected the fleshy, outer pad of her palm that her heart warmed and tears misted her eyes. With his thumb, he tenderly probed the cut for any remaining slivers of glass. As he moved his way around the small wound, his gaze kept darting to her face, evidently checking to see if her expression conveyed any pain.
She was devastated by the compassion emanating from him. The urge to rest her head on his shoulder, to lean on him, to confide in him was awesome. Earth-shattering. She imagined a moment of complete peace in his arms…and for an instant, she could easily conjure what heaven really meant.
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