Читать книгу The Bachelor's Baby - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 8

She’d always been a sucker for a guy with blue eyes and todie-for dimples. Unfortunately, tonight was no exception.

Casey Wright stared at the man standing in the doorway of the Cheatin’ Heart. The man who could have written the How To… manual for guys with blue eyes and dimples. The man who had turned her life upside down a year ago tonight

The man who didn’t know it yet.

She was as antsy as drops of water on a red-hot skillet as she watched him scan the room. When she waved, he nodded. Walking toward her through the crush of people, he flashed a wide grin, showing off his dimples to heart-stopping perfection.

“Tucker Smith,” she said, when he finally made his way to her table. Trying to control the jackhammering in her chest was like trying to stop a Mack truck with failed brakes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

How could she not? She remembered everything about him, in Technicolor detail. A piddling three hundred and sixty-five days couldn’t erase from her memory the way he’d mercilessly wielded his highintensity gaze against her. In all fairness, it wasn’t his fault she had fallen head over heels.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” he said, filling the strained silence as he nudged the brim of his black Stetson up a notch.

“We agreed to meet here at the Cheatin’ Heart after the rodeo ended, one year to the day after our first date.”

“Nine out of ten women would have blown me off.”

“I know.”

A part of her had wanted to do exactly that. There was only one reason she had come. There was something very important she needed to tell him. Suddenly she could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded so hard the blood rushing in her ears drowned out the country-western song playing on the jukebox in the corner.

Casey had spent one unforgettable night with this man. He had given her the best time of her life; but it couldn’t happen again. Tucker Smith was the first, and last, rule she would ever break.

“Can I sit down?” he asked, removing his hat. He shoved his fingers through his black hair.

“I’m sorry. Of course,” she said, lacing her fingers together to keep her hands from trembling. She sat forward on the edge of her seat.

He lowered his tall frame into the chair at a right angle to hers. “You look good, Casey. Different though.” He looked closely at her.

She had definitely changed, but was surprised he noticed anything in the bar’s shadowy interior. The lights glaring down on the wooden dance floor in the center of the room were the main source of illumination in the place. Glancing at her Laura Ashley outfit, Casey figured she did look a far cry from the woman he had met a year ago. That night she had dressed in jeans and a fringed, cotton blouse, like everyone else who hung out in the bar, down to the boots that had slid easily over the floor. Tonight, in her spaghetti-strapped floral jumper with the white, cap-sleeved T-shirt beneath, she knew she stood out like a nun in a Vegas chorus line. And her white canvas sneakers would make a heck of a squeaking noise if she got out there to dance. Not a chance of that happening again. Cheek to cheek with Tucker had been the beginning of her problems.

That brought her back to the reason she had kept this date in the first place.

“Tucker, there’s something I have to tell you—”

“I guess. A year’s a long time. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. Starting with why you never returned my calls.”

The knot in her chest tightened a notch. “I intended to. Every time I tried, you had moved on.”

He looked puzzled. “Sounds like there’s some stuff we have to sort out. Would you like a glass of wine? White, right?” he asked, starting to signal the waitress.

Nine out of ten men wouldn’t have remembered that, she thought, echoing his earlier comment about her. “No, thanks. I can’t—”

“Can’t?” He raised one black eyebrow questioningly. “Are you all right? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“Actually, that part stopped after the first trimester.”

“That part?” His gaze narrowed as he rested his forearms on the table. His knuckles brushed her clasped hands, and she leaned back as if she’d been burned. “What are you trying to say?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve rehearsed this over and over, trying to find just the right words, but I don’t think there are any.”

“What, Casey? Spit it out.”

“I got pregnant a year ago tonight, Tucker.”

His eyes blazed like twin blue flames. He didn’t move or flinch. He just stared at her for several moments. Finally, in an angry tone, he asked sarcastically, “And I’m the father?”

She recoiled as if he’d slapped her; she couldn’t have been more shocked if he had. She’d never expected this reaction, because deception wasn’t something she ever practiced, and no one who really knew her would accuse her of it. His accusation made her feel cheap and dirty.

Breathing hard, she stood. Her hands started to shake, and she curled her fingers into her palms. But the shivering spread straight through to her center. With an effort she kept her voice steady. “There’s only one reason I’m not going to slap your face for that remark. We spent one night together, and you couldn’t possibly know anything about me.”

“You got that right.”

Tears burned the back of her eyes, and Casey blinked hard. So much for playing by the rules. She had felt it only right to tell him face-to-face he was a father, not interrupt his life on the rodeo circuit. It was probably for the best that during her pregnancy and the birth, when she had no family support, she hadn’t known he felt like this or she would have known how alone she truly was. Always in the back of her mind was the dim fantasy that Tucker was there. That when she told him they had a baby, he would be happy about being a father.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. The truth hurt more than she’d thought possible.

“No matter what you think, Mr. Smith, I don’t lie. I thought you should know you had a child. Now you do. What you do with the information is of little consequence to me. Goodbye.”

She turned on her heel.

“Casey, wait—”

Her shoes squeaked loudly on the wooden floor, muffling the sounds behind her. The only thing that had gone right all evening was that she made it outside before the tears she’d been holding back fell, turning her into a blubbering fool.

“Don’t slam the door, Casey.”

Tucker put his wide palm on her front door when she pushed against it. If she’d been tall enough to see through the peephole, she’d never have opened it in the first place. Against his strength, there was little she could do to shut him out unless he chose to leave.

Still, a good bluff couldn’t hurt. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I came to see my child.”

“Yours? That’s not what you thought last night.”

“I’ve had a chance to think.”

She glanced at the cow watch on her wrist that she’d bought a year ago at the rodeo. It showed eleven in the morning. “It’s been all of fifteen hours since you got the news. Is that enough time to change your mind? You all but called me a liar—”

“You didn’t give me a chance to say much of anything.” He held up a hand. “Not that I blame you. I’m sorry, Casey, but you have to admit that news like that comes as a shock to a man.”

“It comes as a shock to a woman, too.”

“Look,” he said, moving his body into the doorway. “Can I come in? Or would you like your neighbors to get an earful?”

“No, I don’t want you to come in, and no, I don’t want to be grist for the rumor mill in this building.”

“It’s one or the other,” he said, pushing gently on the door.

“All right.” She let him into the entry way, then shut the door after him. “How did you find me?”

“Palmdale’s not all that big. I found that accounting firm you’d told me you worked for in the phone book. Wasn’t too hard to charm your address out of the receptionist.”

Kim Delaney had the loosest lips in the world—a failing Casey planned to take up with her friend at the first opportunity.

“So you found me. Why did you bother? For that matter, why did you keep a date we made a year ago?”

His gaze turned intense as he looked from the top of her head, over her buttercup yellow tank top, khaki shorts, bare legs and down to her pink painted toenails. The heat of the megawatt smile he turned on her never reached his eyes.

“I had to see for myself if you were as cute as I remembered. If that wheat-colored hair of yours was as spiky and flyaway. If your eyes were still as green as the hills after a rainstorm.”

Her knees went as weak as soft-serve ice cream. Just like the first time she’d seen him. She leaned back in the entryway, trying to make the movement appear relaxed. The leaning had more to do with selfpreservation, since she needed to sit down before she collapsed. As it was, she could barely manage to find the wall and plant her rear end firmly against it.

She’d been almost glad last night when he’d thought she was a deceitful witch. It had given her a good reason to leave and not look back. If he kept up this sweet talk, she would have no defenses left.

She didn’t have enough self-control to keep from asking breathlessly, “Am I?” She blinked. “Spiky, flyaway and green, I mean?”

“Nope.” A muscle in his cheek jerked as his jaws clamped tightly together.

“Oh.” She should have been relieved. Instead, disappointment settled over her.

“As for why I bothered coming today, I want to see the baby. Boy or girl?”

“What?”

“Last night you didn’t say whether it was a boy or a girl.”

“I had a boy.”

A small smile lifted the corners of his nicely shaped mouth. That information seemed to please him. Absurdly, she was glad he was glad.

“Can I see him?” He took his hat off and jammed his fingers through his hair.

“He’s asleep.” For reasons she didn’t understand, her protective instincts started blinking like a pediatrician’s switchboard on Monday morning.

“I won’t disturb him.”

“He’s a light sleeper,” she said quickly.

She needed time to think through the ramifications of suddenly having her baby’s father in the picture. If she was lucky, he would get good and mad at the abrasive attitude she assumed just for him, tell her off, then turn around and walk out before she could say, “Been nice knowing you, Cowboy.” Instead, he stood his ground, looking at her as if she’d cut the stirrups off his favorite saddle.

His mouth thinned, making his jaw look more square. “Look, Casey, I’ve been up all night. I’m not in the mood to play games. I just want to see my son.

“Why do you suddenly believe he’s yours?” She stared up at him. Lord, he was tall. Six foot two if he was an inch. At her own five foot two, that was a lot of distance between mouths. A year ago they’d succeeded in overcoming that problem. The memory set off a serious fluttering in her stomach, a sensation she tried her best to ignore.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Just a feeling.”

He glared down at her. Funny, she thought, those eyes carried as big a wallop angry as they did when passion filled. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, setting off a rasping that told her he hadn’t shaved any more than he had slept.

“I don’t want his routine upset.” It was worth a last-ditch effort to see if she could make him angry enough to leave her in peace.

She hoped for one final mad-as-hell scowl before he turned on his boot heel and hit the trail. But he stood in her doorway looking as tall as a mountain and just as immovable. Apparently she wasn’t going to be lucky. He was ticked off, all right. But he wasn’t leaving. She was stalling, and he knew it

Actually, what harm could it do for him to see the baby? It would be quick, she told herself. He’d do his duty, feel noble, then he could go. After all, one reason they had hit it off so well was because they had both agreed relationships were a complication. Neither wanted any strings attached. She hadn’t changed her mind about that, except where her son was concerned. Since Tucker was a transient rodeo cowboy, the odds were in her favor that he hadn’t changed his mind, either, and would be especially reluctant to want a child hampering his life-style.

She stood up straight and held a hand out, finally indicating that he should come in. “I apologize. I’m being rude. Please…”

“Thanks.” He frowned, then walked in, his boots thudding on the oak floor in her entry way.

Without hesitation she could say that there had never been a pair of boots in this condo. If all went as she hoped, there never would be again. Blue eyes, dimples, black hair, cowboy hat and boots. There was more masculinity under her roof than she was prepared to handle.

She led him up the two steps into her living room. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating the mauve-andblue floral chintz sofa.

“Thanks.”

He laid his hat on the rosewood coffee table. Then he sat down, draping both arms across the back of the couch as he rested one booted foot on the opposite knee. She bit back a smile as she thought how out of place he looked in her feminine surroundings. His loose-limbed, relaxed posture said he felt right at home. As the rolled-up sleeves on his white cotton shirt pulled up his forearms, she was amazed at the muscles there.

“He should be waking up anytime for a feeding. Would you mind waiting until then to see him?”

His black eyebrows pulled together thoughtfully as he nodded his head. “Give us a chance to talk, without one of us running out.”

“One of us had a pretty good reason,” she said.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were pregnant?”

She cursed the heat that burned her cheeks. For God’s sake, she was a twenty-eight-year-old woman. Why couldn’t she do this without blushing like a teenager?

She sat in the powder blue velvet wingback chair across the table from him. Nervously twisting her fingers, she gathered her thoughts. “You move around a lot.”

“Yeah. I know. You said something about that last night.”

She shrugged. “I’ll admit, I didn’t try very hard.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when it comes right down to it, the whole thing was my fault. I know that. I didn’t want you to feel that you had to do anything. No one should take responsibility for me. I made my bed—” she glanced up quickly “—metaphorically speaking. And I had to lie in it.”

“It’s an awfully big bed to lie in by yourself. What’s his name?”

She blinked. “Who?”

“My son.”

She frowned. He was suddenly taking this more seriously than she had expected. “I named him Jason Smith Wright.”

“My father’s name was Jason.”

“I know. He weighed eight pounds, four ounces. He was twenty-one inches long.” She looked into Tucker’s blue eyes, then lower to the dimples that were more like slashes on either side of his mouth as he frowned. “He’s the spitting image of you.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’d figure you to question again whether or not I’m telling you the truth.”

“My gut tells me you didn’t plan to tell me anything at all if I hadn’t showed up on your doorstep today. Why would you lie?”

“I wouldn’t.”

He frowned. “That night—a year ago, we discussed this. Well, not this, but pregnancy. Right after I told you there was nothing to worry about from me. You said it was a safe time for you.”

“I truly believed that. Apparently I practiced the idiot’s method of rhythm contraception. I counted wrong. My cycle threw me a curve. My body has a wacky sense of humor. I zigged when I should have zagged. I don’t know what happened.” She threw her hands in the air. “It’s all my fault. Not yours.”

He shook his head. “It takes two.”

An undeniable fact. So she didn’t bother contradicting him. He laced his hands together and rested his elbows on well-muscled thighs encased in jeans. Wranglers, she remembered.

That’s part of what had set the course of events in motion. She had admired his boots, then wondered how he got those jeans over his boots. Then she’d put that wondering into words. The next thing she knew, he had taken her to his room to show her exactly how easy it was to pull those Wranglers over his boots. They had talked and laughed long into the night. Then he had turned those eyes and dimples loose on her, and she’d been a goner. It wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t be stuck with the consequences. After all, Jason didn’t need anyone but her. And she would never let him down.

“You don’t owe me anything, Tucker. I’m not asking you to be involved in any way.”

He stood up. “Now hold on. Not so darn fast. You don’t spring this on a man, then say adios.”

“I’m the first to admit that I find security in rules, but I don’t think there are any for a situation like this. I don’t know what to do.”

“You might start by giving me time to take all this in.”

Nervously she looked at her watch again, wishing the baby would wake up. “Okay. You’re right.”

“It’s not every day a man finds out he’s a father.”

“And thank goodness for that. The world is overpopulated as it is.” She stood up and stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “I’m sorry, Tucker. This has to be a shock, and I guess I’m not handling it very well. Let me make myself clear. I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t expect anything from you. I’m trying to make this as easy for you as I can.”

Brave words for a woman in her situation.

“There’s no way to make it easy.”

“Sure there is. Just walk away,” she said, holding her hand toward the door.

“Is that what you want me to do?” he asked, irritated.

“Isn’t it what you want?”

“No. But I’m getting the feeling it’s what you want. You didn’t want me here in the first place. Now you’re trying awful damn hard to get rid of me. Why, Casey?”

She looked away for a moment. “My feelings could best be described as mixed. How about this— if you want to go, it’s okay with me. If you want to stay and see the baby, it’s okay with me.”

“I want to see him.”

Casey smiled. “Okay. I think I heard some noises from the nursery. Follow me.”

The thick beige carpet silenced their footsteps as they climbed the stairs to the nursery. Opening the first door on her right, Casey led him over to the white crib on the wall opposite the door. When she peeked in, Jason was on his back, big blue eyes staring up at her.

“Hi, big boy,” she crooned.

A big toothless grin greeted her as he kicked his legs and waved his arms. She felt Tucker behind her, looking over her right shoulder. His nearness sent shivers through her.

Tucker wrapped his hand around the rail and looked down at the baby. “I feel stupid asking this, but how old is he?”

“Three months. He just started rolling from his tummy to his back. Of course I think that’s because he’s the smartest, most well-developed child ever born. But every baby book I’ve read says he’s within normal range.”

“Is it all right with you if I pick him up?”

“Sure.”

He reached in, then stopped and looked at her. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy as falling off a horse,” she assured him.

“That’s not all that easy.”

She laughed. “Put your palm up under his back and neck to support him. Like this.” She took his wrist, shivering at the harnessed strength she felt. Ignoring her reaction, she placed his hand beneath the baby. “Put your other hand under his bottom and lift.”

He did as she directed and cradled the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow, while the rest of Jason’s chubby body trailed down his arm.

She slanted Tucker an approving look. “See? You can do it with one arm tied.behind your back.”

“I think I’d rather wrestle a steer.” When his uneasy expression faded slightly, he glanced at her. “He’s a sturdy little fella.”

“He’s not fat,” she said defensively.

Tucker looked at her and raised one brow. “Didn’t say he was.”

“Good. Because he’s not.”

So she was a little sensitive. The pediatrician had made her aware of fat cells and a person’s predisposition to putting on weight. Although, seeing the lean, rugged strength and height of Jason’s father, whom he resembled more than a little, she wasn’t nearly so worried. Although it occurred to her, and not for the first time, that she hardly knew anything about her son’s father.

The baby started to fuss and Tucker froze. “What do I do?”

“Unless you have breast milk, not a thing. It’s time for his feeding.”

“Do you want me to leave the room so you can have some privacy?” he asked.

She took the baby from his arms, wondering why he’d qualified that, as in “leave the room,” not the premises and her life. Jason started fussing louder, and she didn’t give it any more thought.

“You can stay if you want. I’ve gotten used to doing this discreetly.” She looked up at him as she sat in the rocker by the window. “Unless you’re embarrassed.”

“Me? Embarrassed? Heck no, doesn’t bother me at all,” he said, turning his back to her.

Casey grinned as she grabbed a receiving blanket and threw it over Jason and her shoulder, then pulled her T-shirt up and unhooked her nursing bra. Nestling Jason against her, she smiled when he latched on to her nipple with the strength of a vacuum. He started smacking loudly, and. Casey glanced at Tucker. He was still staring at the back of the condo building across the alley, as if a woman was stripteasing in the window. In the past three months she’d spent enough time rocking Jason in this spot to know for a fact the stucco was not that interesting.

“Really, Tucker. This is the most natural thing in the world. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not.” But he didn’t turn around. “I’m sort of surprised that you’d nurse him.”

“Why?”

He raised his broad shoulders as he tucked his fingertips in his front pockets, pulling the denim a little tighter across his backside. She was just as glad he was embarrassed. From where she. sat, the view was pretty darn good.

“Most working women wouldn’t.”

Casey started at the words and tone. It pricked the knot of worry she carried around with her. Did he know about her present situation? That was silly. How could he?

“A lot of women have to work. That doesn’t mean they don’t want the best for their babies,” she said defensively.

He glanced over his shoulder, then quickly back out the window. “Yeah, but something tells me they’d frown on you doing that in between clients.”

“That’s true.” She sighed. “But I’ll manage when I go back.”

“Where would you be going back to?”

She glanced up at him sharply. There was definitely an odd note in his voice, as if he was setting a trap for her to walk into.

“My job at the firm—”

“Why are you trying to hide it from me?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything—”

“Come off it, Casey.”

Tucker was too tired to sort through his feelings about Casey and what kind of game she was playing. But a couple of things he knew for a fact. She hadn’t lied about Jason being his son. His instincts told him that even before he saw the unmistakable resemblance. But with that first look and touch, he’d known a wave of love and protection so fierce, so powerful, it had taken his breath away.

“How did you know?” she asked a note of accusation in her voice.

“That receptionist who gave me your address told me.

“I should have guessed. Actually it was sort of a mutual decision. Because of Jason I didn’t want to work the seventy-hour week they envisioned for a potential accounting partner. And they were concerned that motherhood would dilute the energy I could give the firm.” He heard the worry mixed with bravado in her voice.

“What are you going to do?” he asked. He turned away from the window and caught the tender way she was looking at the nursing baby. His flesh and blood—his son. The thought brought him more joy than he’d ever felt in his life.

“I’m looking for another job. I’ve filed for unemployment. I’ll be fine.”

Tucker watched her rock gently back and forth. Last night he’d thought she was more beautiful than she’d been the night he’d met her. Now he understood why. Motherhood suited her. But she seemed damned determined to deny him a chance at fatherhood.

That wasn’t going to happen.

He wasn’t sure why she was so resolved to do this on her own. But he knew for a fact he wouldn’t let her get away with it. Tucker had driven around a long time before knocking on her door. He’d had a lot of time to think. An idea had come to him, and the more he thought about it, the better it sounded to him.

“What if you can’t find a job? What happens when the money runs out?”

She sighed. “I’m an intelligent woman. I’ll find a way to take care of myself and my son.”

“You haven’t said anything about family. Is there someone who can help?”

“No.” The one curtly spoken word told him a lot about what she had gone through in the past year.

Anger, at her and himself, flowed through him. “You should have tried harder to find me.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “It’s not your problem, Tucker.”

“The hell it’s not. He’s my son.”

The baby started squirming, and she raised him to her shoulder, then gently patted his back. “I understand how you feel. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.”

Jason burped loudly and Tucker laughed. “With a little practice he could be a champion.”

Casey snorted. “I’m not sure it’s a skill that should be encouraged.” She settled him at her other breast and he nursed happily again.

“So what are your plans now?” Tucker asked. “Do you have any solid leads on a job?”

“One or two,” she answered vaguely.

“You don’t sound like a typical, enthusiastic career woman.”

“The one thing I hadn’t counted on was how hard it would be to leave my baby—” Her voice caught.

In two strides Tucker was beside her and down on one knee. “Casey, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t leave him? Don’t nurse him? Don’t cry—”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. With her hands full of baby, she couldn’t discreetly brush it away. Tucker did.

“There’s no reason to cry,” he said.

“Oh, yeah? He’s my baby, and I’ll cry if I want to.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Of course not—”

“Don’t patronize me, Tucker. I hate crying. I despise being at the mercy of my hormones. And seeing you isn’t helping, either.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but chose to believe she was feeling the same way he was. Disturbed by how strong his attraction still was even after a year.

“I’m just trying to help. I’ve got an idea—”

“I don’t need help. Especially from a man.” She sniffled. “Tucker, you’ve seen Jason. He’s happy, hearty, healthy—sturdy,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’ve played by the rules. It’s time for you to go. Happy trails and all that.”

He gritted his teeth. “Not yet.”

“Yet?” she asked suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“You’re not the only one who plays by the rules. I’m not leaving until you hear my proposition.”