A Dad At Last (9 page)

There was something engaging about her when she grinned like that. Hell, if he were being honest with himself—something that seemed pretty damn dangerous to do right about now—he'd have to say there
was something engaging about her no matter what she was doing. He tried to keep his mind on the road and the conversation, not on the woman beside him, who seemed to arouse him with every breath she took and every rise and fall of her firm, small breasts.

Connor pretended to clear his throat when it was actually his thoughts he was clearing. “I wasn't aware that we had gone to war.”

“Not war, exactly,” she said, “but there were definitely the makings of a major skirmish about the conversation we were just having.” She settled back, contenting herself with looking at his profile. It was the kind that made a woman feel safe. Rugged, powerful, with just the slightest touch that gave the heart hope there was some sensitivity existing beneath. “I really don't want to argue with you.”

“Could have fooled me.” But for once, he was smiling as he said it.

“It's just that I would have given my eyeteeth to have people like that in my life,” Lacy went on. “All I had was an aunt, and she didn't live nearly as long as I would have wanted her to.”

She had been left alone. Alone to cope with a world that was too often cold, too often distant.

He supposed he could see things from her perspective. Women needed family, friends, a loving network of support. Men didn't. Or at least he didn't. He'd been raised differently, taught to keep his dis
tance from everyone and everything. Which made having Lacy in his life hard.

“Well, you're welcome to the Maitlands if you want them. Me, I just like being by myself.”

For a moment, she tried to picture embracing that way of life—and failed.

“You know, I can't imagine that. Oh, I can see being comfortable with yourself, enjoying your own company and all that. That's a good thing. But not to want a family—” Lacy shook her head, unable to fathom such a thing. “Not to want to know that there were people who would go out of their way for you just because you were part of them—I'm afraid that just doesn't compute for me.”

He didn't think that made him so odd. Independent was more like it. It was a good thing for a man to stand up on his own. Dependence bred weakness, made a man soft. And ripe for disappointment. Like a man who'd just discovered the life he'd known had been a lie.

“It's a matter of what you're used to,” he told her bluntly. “If you've never had it, you don't miss it.”

That was where he was very wrong. “Not always. Trust me.”

He paused, wondering about her. If he asked her about her past, would she interpret it as something other than idle curiosity? Probably. She was forever misinterpreting things one way or another no matter what he said or didn't say. This would be no differ
ent. The best thing was to walk away from it and leave it alone.

It surprised him to hear himself asking, “What was it like? Your childhood.” He tacked the last two words on when he realized he wasn't being clear.

That was easy. Lacy could sum it up in one word. “Lonely.” A rueful expression crossed her face. “My aunt was a great person, but I just wanted more. A regular family. The American dream, I guess.”

The wistful longing in her voice bothered him. And that bothered him, as well. He didn't want to have feelings about her. He wanted to give her no more thought than he did the horse auctioneer he'd seen the other day or the pharmacist who'd given him Chase's medicine.

Too late. Striving for at least the appearance of indifference, Connor lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe you'll have it one day.”

He said it with no promise, no hint of anything that was to come. It wasn't himself he was including in that mix, Lacy thought. The words “one day” were vague throwaways. They had nothing to do with him or any feelings he might have for her.

Because he didn't have any, Lacy reminded herself. How many times did she have to be hit over the head with that before it finally sank in?

She banked down her feelings, pushed them away. It wasn't herself she was supposed to be thinking of,
but Chase. And Connor. “You know, it might be nice if you invited her over.”

That came completely out of the blue. He turned to look at her. “Who?”

“Your mother.”

What the hell was she saying? “My mother's dead—” And then it came back to him all over again. “Oh, yeah, right.”

She saw confusion and then resignation crease his brow. Her heart went out to him. “Takes some getting used to, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, it does.” His voice was a tad curt. “And I don't think so.”

Was he talking about her idea to invite Megan over to the ranch, or something else? “How's that again?”

“I don't think she'd want to come over to see the place. Megan,” he clarified.

“You never know until you ask, and I happen to think she might.” Lacy ventured out on a limb, even though she knew Connor probably resented her butting in. “Every mother wants to see where her son lives.”

He liked things to be straightforward, without any need for second guessing. “Then why didn't she ask to see it?”

He did have a lot to learn, Lacy mused. “Because she's waiting to be asked. She's not the type to just barge in without an invitation.”

Connor spared her a glance. “There's a lot to be said for that.”

She knew that he was referring to the way she was behaving. Well, too bad. She'd done the demure act when that was what she'd felt, but looking back, it certainly hadn't gotten her an inch closer to where she wanted to be. The only way things happened, she thought, was if you went out and did them. If you grabbed life with both hands. She wasn't the two-fisted type, but she was learning. One fist at a time.

Ignoring his not-so-veiled hint, she doggedly pushed forward. “So are you going to invite her over?”

“Maybe.” He didn't have to look at Lacy to see that wasn't good enough. He knew she was about to launch into another verbal assault. He wasn't up to it. “Yeah, okay. I'll invite her.”

“When?”

He might have known it wouldn't end here. “When I get good and ready,” he snapped.

Oh, no, she wasn't about to back off now, not when she'd gotten him all this way. “And when will that be?”

He swore under his breath. “You don't give up, do you?”

This was the new, improved Lacy, and she was determined not to regress. “Giving up is for quitters, and I've decided I'm not going to be a quitter anymore.”

She sounded so serious. “When were you ever a quitter?”

Except for that one night together, he'd probably never even noticed her enough to realize how shy and retiring she'd been. “Not taking part in the game is as good as being a quitter.”

Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. “Any particular game you're referring to?”

“Life.” She knew what he was trying to do. “You didn't answer the question, you know. About when you're going to ask your mother over.”

Junkyard dogs had nothing on Lacy. He gave in. “One day's as good as another. You pick.”

“Okay.”

He knew she meant it. And that he had voluntarily sealed his own doom. He couldn't help but wonder just what the hell had come over him lately. Was a time he wouldn't have been nearly this damn soft.

In the back seat, they could hear Chase stirring. Lacy twisted in her seat to look at their son. She saw his lashes fluttering, although he hadn't opened his eyes yet.

“Uh-oh, I think the shot's beginning to wear off.” The ranch house could just be seen in the distance. “Good thing we're almost home.”

“Yeah.”

It had an odd, comforting sound to it, he thought. Home. He tried not to let his mind wander to the
ramifications of the word. She'd turned down his proposal. The home they were making was for Chase. For now, he left it at that.

S
HE WAS RIGHT.
Chase was better.

But then, Connor thought, tiptoeing out of the newly renovated nursery, leaving Chase sound asleep behind him, Lacy knew more than he did. He was willing to admit that. When it came to kids, she knew a hell of a lot more than he did.

Not that that was hard, Connor thought, amused. He knew next to nothing. Very softly, he pulled the door shut behind him. He found himself completely lost in this maze called fatherhood. He secretly counted himself lucky that Lacy was there to pick up the slack, of which there was a great deal. Watching her, he had to admit she was a natural at this baby thing. As he looked back over the last few weeks, he realized that he was getting used to her confidence, but it did still surprise him at times. He'd remembered what she'd been like back when she'd first worked with him. Not sure her shadow was her own.

Now she had enough confidence to order him around. Like this morning. She'd handed Chase to him and asked that he put the little boy down for a nap. He'd protested that the baby didn't look sleepy
and she'd said, nice as you please, that he'd fall asleep. He'd walked off with Chase in his arms, feeling awkward, feeling something warm stir inside him. Especially when the little boy had looked at him and smiled.

And damned if Chase didn't fall asleep. She'd been right about that and right about the fever thing. Yesterday, when they'd taken him to see the doctor, Chase had been burning up. Today, he was practically cool as the flank of a horse standing in a corral in January. Just warm enough to let you know that everything was all right.

Of course, being right about the baby didn't mean she was right about everything else, he thought, making his way down the stairs. And he was going to tell her so, just as soon as he found her.

The thing she was least right about was trying to push him together with his family. She'd been up to that the minute she'd found out he
had
a family. Pushing first from one angle, then another, trying all sides until she found one that gave.

Connor frowned as he came to the landing. He'd hired Lacy—at her insistence—to be his cook. That meant she was supposed to cook, not meddle.

He knew he was going to have to set her straight about that. Given her personality change, she wouldn't stop unless she was made to stop. The sooner he talked to her about this, the better—before she did anything else he was going to regret.

She wasn't in the library, where he'd left her, the library being the latest room she'd placed under siege. Her renovations were galloping along. If they had a poll to name the next hurricane that came through Texas, he was going to see about putting Lacy on the list, he thought, walking into the hall.

“Lacy. Lacy!” he called, raising his voice when she didn't answer.

“In here.”

Here
turned out to be the kitchen. When he entered, he found her on a ladder, stretching even though she was perched on the top rung. It didn't aid his intended crusade against her, but he couldn't help pausing to watch as she reached up, her young body taut, her breasts straining against the confines of a tucked-in white cotton blouse that didn't seem to want to give her enough room to move.

There was no getting away from it. Motherhood had ripened her body, perfecting what had once been merely near perfect.

He realized that his mouth had gone dry while other parts of him had become just the slightest bit enlivened. Damn, he was going to have to work at exercising more control over his thoughts.

“Don't you know better than to climb up that high?” he snapped, more annoyed with himself and his reaction than the recklessness of what she was doing.

What
was
she doing, anyway? She looked as if
she was rummaging for something on top of the pantry—except there was nothing there.

“What?” Not hearing him, Lacy turned her head and, without thinking, partially turned her body, as well. It was enough to throw her slightly off kilter—and the ladder off balance.

To Connor's horror, the ladder began to lean.

Lacy tried to compensate, but it was too late. Connor got to her just in time to catch her as the ladder went crashing down.

Air flew out of Lacy's lungs as she landed in his arms with a jolt she could feel clear up to her scalp. It took her a second to find her voice. When she did, she found a smile that went along with it and aimed it straight for his heart.

“Nice catch.”

A flurry of oaths flew through Connor's mind. At the last moment, he managed to keep them back. “Why didn't you scream?” Most women would have screamed. Hell, most men would have yelled, he thought. Yet she'd flown, silent, like an angel who suddenly found herself plunging to earth.

Shock had stolen her tongue, but Lacy figured it was more mysterious to smile at him, now that the accident had ended well—except for maybe the ladder, she corrected, glancing at it. She'd have to check it out before she climbed up again.

There was complete trust in her eyes. “I knew you were going to catch me.”

The ache Connor was feeling through his body had absolutely nothing to do with the weight in his arms. He'd handled feed bags that were heavier.

Damn, but he wanted her.

Belatedly, Connor realized she'd wrapped her arms around his neck and he liked it. It brought her body closer against his, igniting a warmth he found, much to his distress, that he needed. “Oh, you did, did you?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “You're kind of like an unsung hero. Don't talk much, don't even seem to be paying attention, but when someone needs you, you're right there.” Like he'd been with his offer to care for his son—and her, she thought. “You wouldn't have let me fall.”

He raised a brow, attempting to seem blasé. Attempting not to look affected by her closeness. “I was going for the ladder.”

Lacy glanced at it. It had landed against the table, its topmost rungs forming a forty-five-degree angle against the table's surface.

A grin played along her lips. “Well, then I guess you missed. But I don't think the ladder's going to mind. It doesn't look broken.”

Which brought him back to anger. Didn't she have any sense in her head? “But you could have been. What the hell were you doing up there?”

“Dusting.”

Was she out of her mind? “Who the hell is going
to see dust up there? Who's even going to
know
there's dust up there?”

“Me.” She knew it was probably silly, but she'd begun tidying, and one thing had just led to another. Just like coming into Connor's home to work for him had led her to love him. “I want everything to be perfect tonight.”

“Having you in a body cast wouldn't be so perfect.” And then he backed up as her words sank in. An uneasy suspicion began to filter through him. “What's tonight?”

Lacy held her breath. “Your mother's coming over for dinner, remember?”

The moment was gone.

With a surge of annoyance, Connor put her down, ignoring the electrical impulses that went off through his body as hers brushed against it.

He scowled at her. “No, I don't remember.” What the hell was she doing, taking it upon herself to throw his doors open like this?

“Yes, you do,” she insisted quietly. Firmly. “Yesterday, in the car, you said I could pick a day, and when we got home I said how about tomorrow night for dinner. You said yes. Muttered it, actually.” Mentally crossing her fingers, she watched his expression.

A vague recollection of the exchange of words came to him, though what their content was, he couldn't have said even under oath.

Restless, he began to pace, eyeing Lacy all the while. Trying to keep his anger under control. “So you invited my mother to dinner?”

Her eyes never left him. This was what Daniel Boone must have felt like, facing down the bear in the old legend. “I thought it was a good start.”

He wasn't going to be forced into anything. Lacy was going to have to call the woman and cancel, that was all there was to it. He glared in her direction. “Think again.”

Inside, she felt her stomach quiver, but she held her ground. This was important. For him and the baby. And for Megan. “Don't you think forty-five years is enough time to go by without getting to know her?”

Where the hell did she get off, doing this to him? “Like you said, forty-five years have gone by. A few more days won't matter.”

It was an excuse, and he knew it. She had to get him to admit that. “They will if they knit themselves into weeks and then years.”

He lifted a shoulder indifferently, then let it fall, not answering. He headed for the doorway. Why hadn't he gone with his first instincts and left for the corral after he'd put Chase down? Having sought her out to tell her the baby was asleep had been a mistake he meant to rectify now.

“Cancel it,” he ordered.

Hurrying, Lacy swerved around him and reached
the doorway before Connor did. She placed her small body in his way. “I've never thought of you as being a coward before.”

Her words rankled him, and anger smoldered within him, threatening to spill out. “What are you talking about? I'm not a coward.”

There were many definitions of the word. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him. “Then what do you call avoiding seeing your mother?”

He didn't care for pity, didn't give it and certainly didn't accept it. He resented that she felt she had to offer it. “Enjoying my privacy—which has gone all to hell since you moved in.”

He knew exactly how to hit her where it would hurt the most. Lacy raised her chin, but he saw the pain that had sprung up in her eyes. She couldn't fool him.

“I can move out.” With that, she turned on her heel to walk out.

Connor caught a sucker punch right to the gut as guilt slammed into him with the force of a runaway freight train. He grabbed her hand before she could make good her exit. Though they'd been born of frustration, he'd regretted the words the second he'd spoken them.

“Lacy, I'm sorry.”

Debating whether or not to pull her hand out of his grasp and continue walking, Lacy blew out a breath, then turned to look at him. It served no pur
pose to hold on to her hurt and anger. Nothing productive would come of it. Besides, she didn't like feeling this way, as if there was a grudge between them.

“Apology accepted.” A smile began to take root, working its way slowly over raw terrain. “So you promise you won't duck out on me tonight?” She knew he was more than capable of it.

He sighed. She was one step ahead of him. “I promise I won't duck out on you tonight. Why do you care so much about her?”

He still had trouble calling Megan his mother, didn't know if he could ever really manage it and not feel as if he was choking on the words. In his mind, the term had become synonymous with deception.

She placed her hand on his shoulder, silently comforting the agitation she knew existed beneath his steely exterior.

“Because I understand what she must have gone through, losing a baby. And what she must be going through to have discovered that her lost baby is now a strapping forty-five-year-old man who was kept from her all these years.” Her eyes eloquently pleaded for him to open up his heart at least this much. It didn't matter that Megan had seven other children or that Connor was an adult, not a child. They needed each other. “She wants to make up for some of that lost time.

“But most of all, I care about you—how this affects you,” Lacy added, knowing she'd let too much out. She didn't want him backing away, afraid that she might have ideas about the two of them. She didn't. Any ideas that might exist were buried in her pillow, along with her tears. “You're Chase's father, and he's going to take a lot of his cues from you.”

Connor frowned. He hardly thought of himself as a role model. “He'd be better off not doing that.”

Did he think he had to be a plaster saint for his son to look up to him? Lacy wondered. His flaws were what made him human. And lovable. She hadn't fallen in love with a cast-iron hero. She loved a man. But Lacy knew that argument wouldn't work. So, resignedly, she murmured, “Your opinion. Not mine.”

He saw it. Saw the flash of love in her eyes. Saw the look that had undone him in the first place, cutting through his haze of alcohol and self-pity that night his mother had died. He still was lucid enough then to have wanted her. Her softness, her strength. Her love.

It all came barreling back. “Damn it, Lacy, if you had an ounce of sense in you…”

Something warm cloaked itself over her shoulders, drawing her to him. She raised her eyes to his, and her heart began to hammer erratically. “I'd what? If I had an ounce of sense in me, I'd what?”

He was going to say
flee,
but he never managed to get around to forming the single word.

Instead, in one swift movement, Connor pulled her into his arms and sealed his mouth to hers. The way he'd wanted to all this time. All these days and long, endless nights when he'd lain in bed, aware that she was close by. Just out of reach.

Always out of reach.

If he'd had any strength of character, he would have let her continue to be out of reach. But he didn't, not when it came to Lacy.

What he had was a deep-seated hunger for all the things she was, all the things she brought to him so selflessly.

Electricity zipped through Lacy's veins the instant his lips came down on hers. It had nothing to do with the dry, cracking air and everything to do with the man who knew how to make her heart sing without ever having heard the melody himself.

She knew he didn't love her, that kissing her until she was practically mindless was just feeding some physical need he was trying to tame, but she didn't care. Because kissing him fed something so much greater for her.