Книга - Let’s Have A Baby!

Let's Have A Baby!
Christy Lockhart


DADDY BY DONATION… ?Jessica Stephens was determined to have a baby of her own, even if it meant raising a child all by herself. And Jessie would do just about anything to make her dream come true, including asking the one man she trusted to supply a small, clinical contribution… .When Jessie asked him to father her child, Kurt Majors did the sensible, gentlemanly thing - he kidnapped her. At his isolated ranch house, he set out to teach Jessie a couple of important truths. First: babies should only be conceived the old-fashioned way, with two committed parents. Second: Jessie was so desirable, no man could resist her - including Kurt himself.Bachelors and Babies: These men get more than they ever expected when they connect with the woman of their dreams… .







“Let’s Get This Straight, Jessica Stephens, Right Here, Right Now,” (#ua8c6f98c-dd9b-58ab-a6e6-bec26ad6e049)Letter to Reader (#u9ba85133-2e18-5b77-9bdc-728cd14ba890)Title Page (#u41381b2a-047d-5073-af7a-0aba2d4166c9)CHRISTY LOCKHART (#u36c4cbaa-c083-5a80-a48e-ed49af5a8e79)Acknowledgments (#u7a611a0a-d810-5bef-8d2a-2598b399a77c)Dedication (#uda860a3b-1d54-52b2-a74e-10801709a232)Prologue (#u66c0b05e-2749-5c8d-933a-c533c47e3393)Chapter One (#u3cd4f5d2-7ef8-5de6-8879-5c875f7d2cb5)Chapter Two (#ueeeaa904-e71b-5d58-9e0b-86b644d98196)Chapter Three (#ua39d8985-77ce-5022-86a7-3096c1f6c6be)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)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“Let’s Get This Straight, Jessica Stephens, Right Here, Right Now,”

Kurt said. “If I ever become a father, I’ll do it the old-fashioned way. Skin to naked skin. There won’t be any contracts, or doctors, or agreements.” His voice dropped a hostile octave. “If I ever have a baby, it will be the result of lovemaking, soft and sweet, hard and fast, but lovemaking, by every definition of the word.”

She paled.

“I’d be married, Jessie, and my wife would have my complete and total commitment. There would be no payment, except an emotional one. And that cost would be high. I’d demand everything she had to offer.”


Dear Reader,

April brings showers, and this month Silhouette Desire wants to shower you with six new, passionate love stories!

Cait London’s popular Blaylock family returns in our April MAN OF THE MONTH title, Blaylock’s Bride. Honorable Roman Blaylock grapples with a secret that puts him in a conflict between confiding in the woman he loves and fulfilling a last wish.

The provocative series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES continues with Leanne Banks’s The Secretary and the Millionaire, when a wealthy CEO turns to his assistant for help in caring for his little girl.

Beverly Barton’s next tale in her 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS miniseries, His Woman, His Child, shows a rugged heartbreaker transformed by the heroine’s pregnancy. Powerful sheikhs abound in Sheikh’s Ransom, the Desire debut title of Alexandra Sellers’s dramatic new series, SONS OF THE DESSERT. A marine gets a second chance at love in Colonel Daddy, continuing

Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION. And in Christy Lockhart’s Let’s Have a Baby!, our BACHELORS AND BABIES selection, the hero must dissuade the heroine from going to a sperm bank and convince her to let him father her child—the old-fashioned way!

Allow Silhouette Desire to give you the ultimate indulgence—all six of these fabulous April romance books!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3


Let’s Have a Baby!

Christy Lockhart








www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHRISTY LOCKHART

married her real-life hero, Jared, who proved to her that dreams really do come true. They live in Colorado with their two children, Raymond and Whitney.

Christy remembers always wanting to be a writer. She even talked her elementary school librarian into “publishing” her books. She notes always preferring romances because they’re about that special moment when dreams are possible and the future is a gift to unfold.

You can write to Christy at P.O. Box 448, Eastlake, CO 80614.


With thanks, as always,

to Pamela Johnson and Lisa Craig

for invaluable input and insight.


Also dedicated to Ray and Alice Pacheco, the best

in-laws a woman could be blessed with. Thanks for

helping me figure out what love is all about....


Prologue

Columbine Crossing Courier

“Around the Town” by Miss Starr

Could our very own bookkeeper, Jessica Stephens, be knitting baby booties after work hours?

Rumor has it that Jessica was seen at the general store purchasing pink and blue yarn, knitting needles and several patterns for baby clothing. To Miss Starr’s knowledge, Jessica has no nieces or nephews, and that can only mean one thing....

I wonder who’s the lucky father? This may be Columbine Crossing’s best kept secret, besides Miss Star’s identity!

I’ll be back next week, faithful readers. Your intrepid reporter promises to bring you the name of the baby’s father.

For now, this is all the news you can use.

Miss Starr surreptitiously glanced around the post office, making sure she was alone before clipping her article from the Courier. She never kept the originals, so no one would discover who was Miss Starr’s real-life counterpart.

After patting the neat bun at her nape, she slid the newsprint into a folder, then locked it in the filing cabinet.

Mercy. Jessica Stephens? Possibly pregnant? Who would have believed it? It amazed Miss Starr that Jessica had been able to keep the bloom of true love hidden for this long.

Miss Starr frowned, wondering who the father might be. It certainly was a mystery! Her frown faded, replaced by a grin. There was little that gave her more pleasure than solving a good mystery...especially where love was concerned.

After all, having been born on Valentine’s Day some sixty years ago—she never said just how many years—she was the small mountain town’s self-appointed Cupid. Not only that, but now that Miss Starr had a newspaper column, she had an obligation to keep the town’s residents informed.

And she took her responsibilities seriously, indeed.

Moving in front of the post office’s large window, she glanced down the street toward the church.

In her opinion, it had been far too long since the bells rang out for a wedding—almost two years if her memory was correct...which it most certainly was.

The town’s welcome sign wavered in the cold, early spring wind gusting from the tip of Eagle’s Peak, some 14,000 feet high. The sign listed the town’s population at 972 people. If Jessie were indeed pregnant, the sign would need to be changed to 973.

Nothing could make Miss Starr happier.


One

“You want me to what?“ Shock and disbelief propelled Kurt Majors to his feet.

Jessie Stephens winced, then licked her lower lip.

Jaw clenched, he stared at her, unable to believe he’d heard right.

After a shaky exhalation, Jessie bravely looked at him. “I realize this comes as a surprise to you—”

“Surprise?” he interrupted, shock now turning to anger. “Lady, surprise doesn’t come close.”

“Please, just hear me out.”

He raised his hand to stop her, but she ignored him, tipping back her chin to unflinchingly meet his gaze.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, Kurt. I know it seems sudden, but I promise you, I’ve looked at all the angles and considered all the options. This isn’t a spur of the moment decision.”

Jessie blinked several times, then hurried on. “You’re the perfect man to father my child.”

“The answer’s no, Jessie.”

“Kurt, you once told me that if I needed anything, anything, you’d be there for me, no questions asked.”

“For God’s sake, Jessie, the offer didn’t include getting you pregnant.”

She twirled her thumbs together. From years of knowing her, he recognized the nervousness in the gesture. After long moments, she looked at him again, pleading eyes connecting with the hardness of his stare.

A lesser man might have folded right then.

After stilling her motions, she spoke quietly, “I believed you were a man of your word.”

A pulse ticked in his temple. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

Wisely she took a step backward and shook her head vehemently. “No. Never.”

The fire crackled, punctuating the quiet. Jessie jumped.

“Won’t work, Jessie. I’m not into manipulation. You should know better.”

“I’m making a mess of this.” Obviously trying to gather her thoughts, she stalled for time, pushing dark blond bangs back from her forehead. “I don’t want you to think this is all about me, that I’m expecting you to do this for free.”

She’d lost her mind.

He’d always admired her bravery and the way she thought things through. That was, until right now.

The ticking in his temple became an all-out throb.

“I’m willing to do your books for the next five years at no charge if you’ll do me this one favor.”

“You’re going to pay me to get you pregnant?”

Silence thundered and tension sparked.

“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly.”

Keeping time with the fury flashing through him, Kurt drummed his fingers on the mantel in an ominous staccato. Then, as tension tightened to a snapping point, he stopped. “How would you put it, Jessie?”

She spoke slowly, as if measuring her words. “I see it more like we’re helping each other, you know, mutual benefit.”

“Stud service for bookkeeping.” He pounded his fist on the mantel. “Nice ring to it.”

She retreated farther, until her back connected with the windowsill. The width of the ranch house’s large living room separated them, and it wasn’t enough space.

Her fingers were laced, and her knuckles had whitened. “That’s not how it is.”

He debated whether or not he should throw her out. Before he reached a decision, she plowed ahead once more, her tenacity matched only by her insanity.

“This is a smart business arrangement for you,” she insisted, her words wavering.

Tears thickened her voice. He watched her choke them back as he’d seen her do so many times in childhood.

“You’ve been paying me to do the ranch’s books for a couple of years. We both know that in order for you to grow and meet your projections, you need to hire at least one more hand. I make enough money from my other customers, so I can afford to do yours free. If you don’t have to pay me, you’ll have extra money to achieve your goals.”

“You’ve got it all figured out,” he all but snarled.

“This is perfect. Don’t you see, Kurt?”

“No, I don’t.” He started drumming his fingers again. She’d been right about one thing. She had thought through all the angles. Didn’t matter. Wrong was wrong. Nothing would make him change the moral beliefs encoded in his DNA. “Dress it up any way you want, Jessie. Disguise it and try and make it more palatable. All you want from me is stud service.”

“Okay, Kurt. If that’s what you want to call it.”

His eyes narrowed. She actually thought she could convince him to reduce the act of lovemaking to a business decision, as if bringing a baby into the world was a commodity to be bought and sold, balanced on some ledger.

Damn her and her determination.

Jessie, the girl he’d looked out for, the teen he’d protected, the woman he did volunteer work with, wanted to take their years of friendship and working together and smash them, making them something cheap and tawdry, something she could get from any man.

“Will you do it?” Her whisper was soft, hopeful. “For me?”

Fury licked at his insides, the same way the fire licked at the log it greedily consumed in the grate. “Assuming I was foolish enough to agree to this lunacy, Jessie, how did you plan on us going about the act? Inviting me over for coffee and sex?”

Color rushed into her face, then drained, leaving her pale.

“Were you planning to slip into something comfortable and asking me to join you in the bedroom? How about a glass of wine first, to settle your nerves? No, probably not. That might not be good for the baby.”

“Kurt—”

She’d pushed him beyond reason. Demolishing the distance between them, he locked his hands around her shoulders. He captured her gaze and refused to let it go.

“Were you going to undress me or was I going to have to take off my own clothes? And how about you, Jessie? As part of the bargain would I at least get to watch you strip?” His gaze flicked to the top button on her blouse. “Or maybe you’d figured I’d get to take your clothes off. After all, I should get some enjoyment out of it, shouldn’t I?”

He moved one of his hands to the place where a pulse wildly beat in her throat. Then, with his finger, he circled the button he’d looked at. “Time is money, everything is money, isn’t it, Jessie?”

“Kurt, you’re being ridiculous,” she said breathlessly. For a moment, her gaze hypnotically rested on his hand.

“So maybe you were just going to be naked when I arrived so we could get on with the show.”

He unfastened the button and allowed the silk shirt to slip apart. Intention clear, he placed his fingertip in the opening. “Is this what you want? Tell me, Jess. You’ve supposedly thought everything through. Clue me in.”

The rush of their heartbeats roared over the fireplace.

“Kurt, don’t do this.”

“Stud service comes with expectations. Would you like a wham-bam-thank-you, ma’am, or shall we take it slower, a seduction, say? Where will we do it? In the bedroom? Or we can make it easy and just use the living room.”

He cut a purposeful glance over his shoulder. “Better yet, we could drop down and go for it right there on the couch. How ’bout it, Jessie? You want the top or do you prefer the bottom?”

Tears swam at the corners of her eyes. “This isn’t like you. You’re being crude.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, Jessie? My sperm? Nothing else matters. Since you’ve worked out all the details of my payment, you’ll probably have a contract you want me to sign.

“Oh, and dates. I’ll expect a calendar with your most fertile days circled, that way we can schedule our sexual rendezvous. Or we could just go at it for an entire month. I wrap up most of my ranch work around dusk. I could come for dinner and stay as long as it took.”

Her outrageous proposal had struck at the heart of his principles. Men were meant to be lovers, providers, helpmates, spouses, protectors...fathers.

They weren’t supposed to be disposable, interchangeable donors.

To have her throw his ideals and beliefs in his face rankled. She saw him as a means to her ends. She’d stung his pride, oh yeah, but so much more. She’d taken everything he prided and defiled it.

Jessie still had a thing or two to learn about life.

Before he taught them to her, here and now, he moved his hand, curving it around her shoulder again. “What happens if you don’t get pregnant right away? Will you want to keep sleeping together? How long shall we give it? Two months? Three? Six?”

“You’ve misunderstood this whole thing.” A furious blush painted her cheeks. “We, er, wouldn’t need to actually, you know...”

Jessie’s voice trailed off as his brows drew together sharply.

“Go on.” If you dare.

Kurt wondered if Jessie realized how tenuous his hold on his temper truly was. The ends were fraying, threatening to unravel, or worse, snap completely.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t. Nor did he loosen his grip.

She averted her gaze.

“Look at me, Jessie. You’re asking me to get you pregnant. Face those realities, if nothing else.”

Her lips were parted slightly and he noticed the tip of her tongue. Pink and moist.

Jeez.

Why the hell was he noticing little things about her now? That was the last thing he wanted to do. She’d insulted him, trespassed on the grounds of their friendship, tried to buy his services.

He shouldn’t be noticing her as a desirable woman.

But he was noticing just that...the sight of her perfectly shaped lips, the softness of her skin, the feel of her in his arms, the fact that she smelled as fresh as a stroll through a rain-washed meadow.

Dark blond hair teased her face and shoulders. Absently he wondered how the strands would feel against his chest. Silky and sexy?

Unconsciously his hold tightened. Stifling a gasp, she dragged her lower lip between her teeth. Kurt forced his fingers to relax.

Never before in his life had he touched a woman in anger, not even when Belinda betrayed him. With a few, well-placed words, Jessie had changed all that, goading him into something he hadn’t known he was capable of.

She finally followed his instructions, looking up at him. Her wide eyes and luminous gaze asked for something unspoken. Understanding, compassion maybe. In that moment, he was capable of granting neither.

“There’s a clinic in Denver,” she said quietly.

When he didn’t respond, she cleared her throat. “I can get pregnant without...”

“Yes?” He barely managed the word.

“There’s this procedure that you can do in the doctor’s office... You could go one day and I can go there another...” Color suddenly swamped her face again, obliterating even the traces of her makeup. “I’m saying that we wouldn’t actually have to make love or anything.”

“Wouldn’t have to...” He trailed off and reality sliced through him, as if he’d plowed headlong into barbed wire. “You want me to do it in a cup?”

She put her hands in supplicate against his chest. “Kurt, wait, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Insulted barely began to define it. Blood thundered through him, demanding action. “You don’t want a man, a marriage, or even a relationship. You don’t want me. All you want is my donation? At a clinic? In a cup?”

She winced.

Fury threatened to devour everything and everyone in his path. “Let’s get this straight, Jessica Stephens, right here, right now. The answer’s no. Not just no, but hell, no.

“If I ever become a father, I’ll do it the old-fashioned way. Skin to naked skin.

“There won’t be any contracts, or doctors, or agreements.” His voice dropped by a hostile octave. “If I ever have a baby, it will be the result of lovemaking, soft and sweet, hard and fast, but lovemaking, by every definition of the word.”

She paled.

“I’d be married, Jessie, and my wife would have my complete and total commitment. There would be no payment, except an emotional one. And that cost would be high. I’d demand everything she had to offer

“We’d take off each other’s clothes, and when my finger touched her here...” He illustrated, opening a second button on Jessie’s blouse.

She drew in her breath sharply and he continued, “Yeah, just like that, she’d react like that, and more. She’d reach for my belt buckle and we would tumble onto the bed together.”

His callused finger grazed the skin right above the clasp that joined her bra. Her eyes widened.

“I’d bring her to a climax, listen to her call out my name.” Rather than diminish, his anger continued to simmer. “Any baby of mine will be conceived when I’m buried deep inside my wife. There will be mutual love and passion, and it will create life.

“It’ll be more than just sex, and a hell of a lot more than what you want.”

Silence crackled.

“You asked the wrong man.”

With that, he released her and watched her shoulders slump. He hardened his heart against the tears clinging to her eyelashes.

“Kurt...” She swiped at the tears. “I understand what you’re saying.” Her words were rushed and unsure. “If the only way you’d agree is if we did it, you know, the old-fashioned way, then I guess we could.”

Just what he wanted. A martyr in his bed.

“You didn’t understand a word I said,” he snapped. Kurt grabbed at his self-control. He strode to the far side of the room, where the fire feasted on a log. “Forget it, Jessie.”

She lowered her head and hid her expression.

“If you thought I could do this, Jessie, you don’t know me.”

Humiliation flooded over her. “No.” Jessie mentally cursed her voice for cracking and betraying her inner emotions. “I guess I don’t.”

Her fingers shook as she refastened the buttons he’d opened. Her skin burned where he’d touched her, making the mortification complete. She could barely breathe, let alone speak. Words rough and scratchy, she fumbled over an apology.

Since he was on the other side of the room, Jessie seized the opportunity to flee, rushing from his study, then yanking open the front door and dragging it shut behind her.

The tears that had threatened to spill for the past fifteen minutes now curtained her eyes.

She’d always known no man would ever want her.

Sam, her ex-fiancé, had reinforced that knowledge, a hundred times.

How could she have been foolish enough to believe Kurt was any different? Even though they wouldn’t have actually had to sleep together, no man would willingly get her pregnant.

She ran toward her car, praying she could outdistance the pain of his rejection.

“Jessie! Wait!”

She didn’t.

As long as she lived, she’d never be able to face Kurt again. Even worse was the knowledge that she’d destroyed their friendship.

The first of the tears chased down her cheeks and the cold Colorado night air froze them to her skin. She struggled to slide the key into the ignition only to have the set slip from her grip and tumble to the floorboard.

Frustration drowning all other emotions, she slapped her hand against the steering wheel.

Nothing had gone right since she arrived at Kurt’s.

Stupid, stupid.

She shouldn’t have done this, should have just stuck with her original plan.

Wasting precious moments, she switched on the interior light to search for the keys. Just as Kurt reached for the car door, determination written on his rigid features, she managed to turn the ignition.

Blinking desperately to clear her blurry vision, she put the car in gear and floored the accelerator.

In the rearview mirror she saw Kurt, reflected by the porch light. Then he slammed his fist into his open palm as Jessie sped away. His brows were set in a scowl and his jaw hardened.

She barely slowed down before turning onto the gravel road leading back to town and home.

Ten minutes later, she rushed into the house, clicking the dead bolt securely into place before her shoulders collapsed against the door.

Kurt hadn’t followed her.

Even though she’d checked the mirror a dozen times, she hadn’t seen a single set of lights on the inky mountain road.

She was alone, just as she wanted.

A lump clogged Jessie’s throat, and she wondered if she would ever stop lying to herself.

She’d never wanted to be alone. Her entire life, she’d wanted to love and be loved. But not even her own mother cared enough to keep her. Nor had the series of foster parents. She’d spent night after night praying that someone would adopt her, keep her, make her feel as though she were part of a family instead of facing the world all alone.

And every night, she’d turned off the light, thinking that tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, things would be different.

Jessie told herself that Kurt’s rejection didn’t surprise her, that she’d expected he’d refuse. So, why then, did she hurt so much?

Trying to bury the pain of tonight’s confrontation, she shoved away from the door. Her suitcase sat in the foyer, still packed. Now, more than ever, she wished she’d just left well enough alone and had never given in to the temptation of approaching Kurt.

Yet, every night since she made the appointment a few weeks ago, she’d dreamed of knowing the baby’s father instead of just receiving an anonymous donation.

As she trailed her fingertips across the suitcase’s zipper, she realized that every time in her life that she had dared to dream, she had been hurt.

It wouldn’t ever happen again, she vowed. She was done fantasizing. With his cold words, Kurt had reinforced the danger of believing.

This time, she vowed, she’d learned the lesson and learned it well. It was safer to stick to facts and reality. Maybe life would be less painful that way.

Soon, she would have the baby she’d always wanted, holding it, cuddling and snuggling. For the first time in her life, she would know and give unconditional love.

Protectively she placed her palm across her abdomen.

Nothing and no one would stand in her way.

With resolution, she squared her shoulders and crossed into the bedroom. But the instant she unfastened the top button of her shirt, memories flooded her.

It had been so long since she’d been touched. The feel of Kurt’s work-roughened skin against her smooth skin had sent shivers of something she didn’t dare name skating down her spine to settle near her womb.

For a moment, if she closed her eyes and imagined, she might believe that he’d actually wanted to touch her....

But he hadn’t.

He’d simply been trying to drive home his angry point. As she’d learned, wanting and being wanted were for other women.

Jessie finished undressing and pulled on a flannel nightdress. Last week, at the women’s clothing store in town, she’d passed satin and lace teddies on the way to the dressing room. She’d stopped, looking longingly at the material while wondering how it might feel against her skin.

Since it didn’t really matter anyway, she’d settled for flannel. No one would see her in lingerie. Besides, a long gown was warmer, especially when there was no one to share the bed with.

After combing her hair its customary one hundred strokes, she turned off the lights and slipped beneath cold blankets, curling into a ball, seeking protection from the rejection still searing her heart.

Seconds later, the insistent thud of a fist on her front door made her sit upright.

“Open up, Jessie!”

Kurt.

She dragged a pillow against her chest and hugged it tight. Maybe if she ignored him...

“I’ll get Sheriff McCall, say we’ve got an emergency.”

He wouldn’t.

“I will, Jessie. Try me.”

Her heart pounded.

“Neighbors just turned on their porch light.”

Jessie groaned. Maybe when she went to Denver in the morning, she wouldn’t come back.

“No, Mrs. Johnson, Jessie’s not answering. I’m starting to worry. Yes, her car’s here.”

Silence hung as cold as a newborn snow.

“Sure...thanks. I’ll wait here for the sheriff.”

“Wait!” Galvanized by the threat, Jessie tossed back the covers and pillow, then ran toward the front door. She’d never be able to show her face in Columbine Crossing again if anyone else witnessed her private torment. “Don’t you dare call Spencer,” she called, twisting the bolt.

Before she had a chance to open the door, Kurt did.

She gasped.

He stood there, wearing no jacket, his cheeks bitten by the frost. His breath clung frigidly to the night air, air that still felt more like winter than spring.

“Invite me in.”

“But the neighbors—”

“Are asleep. Invite me in, Jessie.”

There were no lights on across the street. There was only Kurt, all six feet of him, masculine determination written in the set of his jaw and shoulders.

Jessie had never felt more helpless. “You lied.”

“I accomplished my goal.” When she said nothing more, he added, “Fine. We’ll talk here.”

In the years she’d known him, she’d learned to tell when he was joking. He wasn’t. “Kurt...”

“Decision’s yours, Jessie. We’re going to talk. Now. We can do it inside or out here, where the neighbors might overhear. Unless you want what I have to say printed in Miss Starr’s column?”

The threat chilled as much as the weather. For protection against both, she dragged the neckline of her nightie tighter around her throat. The subzero wind nipped at her toes and ankles. But even that didn’t freeze as much as the ice in Kurt’s green eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll play it your way. First of all—”

“Stop!” Her insides reeled and she felt as though the world had started spinning backward. “You can come in.” The invitation contained only the barest hint of civility.

He didn’t hesitate.

With the door closed and both of them standing in the tiny foyer, she suddenly felt very small, very feminine. Her skin tingled where he’d touched her earlier, and sanity demanded that she get him out of here immediately. “Go ahead, Kurt. Say what you need to so you can leave.”

“I’m wondering,” he said, taking a step toward her, filling her senses and indicating her suitcase with his thumb. “Where the hell you think you’re going.”

The question was delivered quietly, but whipped by the lash of anger.

Jessie took another step away from him, then stopped. She reminded herself he was her best friend’s brother, nothing more. She was a grown woman and answered only to herself.

Straightening her spine, she pretended an indifference she didn’t feel. “It’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business.”

She shook her head, her hair falling forward to frame her face and allowing her to hide. “Look, Kurt, I presented you with a business arrangement, but you didn’t like the terms. End of discussion.”

“It would be, if you weren’t planning a trip.”

Frustration began as a small knot in her stomach. “It’s late, and I have to get up early.”

“So you can go to Denver.”

“Yes.”

“And get inseminated.”

The knot became tighter. She hated the emphasis he put on the words, as though she was doing something repulsive. Tipping back her head, she gave him a falsely sweet smile. “Good night, Kurt.”

He turned and she experienced a flash of triumph.

Then he clicked the dead bolt into place with a threatening thud.

Her heart momentarily stopped. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from doing something you’ll regret.”


Two

Until that moment, Kurt hadn’t realized how deadly serious he was.

He knew Jessie, better than she realized. Mary, his sister, had spent many evenings telling him about her friend. He knew about Jessie’s broken engagement and the time she was stood-up for the prom.

And because he and Jessie volunteered together at the local children’s center, he knew how much having a real family meant to her. But this wasn’t the way to accomplish that, no matter what she thought.

“You can’t stop me from going to Denver.”

“Yes,” he said. “I can. And I will. I’ll save you from yourself, Jessie.”

Slowly she shook her head, loose hair framing her face and so very nearly distracting him.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want a knight in shining armor.”

“Tough. You’ve got one.”

Her eyes, columbine blue and frosted by icy resolve, seemed to challenge him. “Heroes are for fairy tales, Kurt, just like happily ever afters.”

“You don’t believe in them.”

“No...I never did.”

“Never?” he asked. Her eyes told a different story, though. They revealed what she never willingly would.

He took a single step toward her and watched her retreat. It wasn’t much, just a fraction of an inch. But her toes, with an intriguing brush of pink across the nails, had peeked out from beneath her nightclothes.

The flannel gown, severe, prim and proper, swooshed around her ankles. More than that, however, it was her eyes that still riveted his attention. They hinted at the secrets in her soul. “Never, not even once? In all your childhood years, you never wanted to be rescued?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“You were content with what you had, being shuffled from family to family?”

“Get out.” She pointed to the door.

“A little close to the truth?” he asked with coiled quietness. Her ridiculous proposal had angered him, the fact that she wanted only his sperm infuriated him and now her determination to go to Denver fanned a flame of frustration in him.

“Truth?” she repeated. “You want the truth, Kurt? Well, how’s this?” Her voice quivered, betraying the emotions that Kurt knew she was trying to hide. “I’m going to have a baby—if not yours, then someone else’s. So save us both the aggravation of misplaced chivalry.”

He shook his head and advanced again. “Sorry, sweetheart. You brought this to me and you made it my concern.”

“So what are you going to do, physically stop me from leaving in the morning?”

“If I have to.”

She shivered.

He took another, measured step toward her.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Try me.”

She sucked in a breath, her breasts rising beneath the cotton of her gown. Her nipples strained against the fabric and something deep inside him wrenched. For the first time since he’d first met her—when she wore a braid and knee-high white socks with a skirt—she affected him in a way that had nothing to do with friendship.

His instincts warned of danger while his body urged him toward it.

He reminded himself that Jessie was his sister’s friend.

Yeah. Right Too bad he wasn’t buying what his mind was selling.

“This is crazy, impossible.”

For a second, he had no idea what she was talking about.

“If you stop me in the morning, I’ll go later, after you leave. You can’t hold me prisoner in my own home forever.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Kurt, stop this ridiculousness.”

“Sure.” He folded his arms. Better than touching her. “As soon as you agree to cancel your appointment.”

“If it’ll get you out of here, I promise I’ll call the clinic first thing in the morning.”

“Not good enough.”

Her eyelids squeezed shut for a fraction of a second.

“I’ll cancel it for you.”

“Cancel it for me? You’re out of your ever-loving mind.”

“That makes two of us. Give me the number of the doctor’s office, Jessie. Then I’ll leave you alone to your sweet dreams.”

“And an empty house,” she said quietly, the words more of a confession than a statement.

She winced, obviously having disclosed more than she wanted. He should pretend he hadn’t heard, and more, hadn’t seen the painful display of honesty in her eyes.

But right now, Kurt wasn’t feeling like much of a gentleman. He’d capitalize on her weakness, get her to see things his way, the right way. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “An empty house.”

She didn’t answer him.

“If you don’t like being alone, get married.”

“Sure. Which of my many suitors should I choose?”

Bitterness tainted her question. Pain lay there in her voice, raw and exposed. Before he reacted to it, she rushed away from him toward the back of the house, leaving him alone. He knew he’d said something wrong, but exactly what, he wasn’t sure.

Women. What did he know about them anyway? Not enough, if his divorce was anything to judge by.

Still, Jessie was hurting and remnants of her earlier pain lingered in her gaze. He was on the right track.

Kurt hadn’t been much interested in the fairy tales his mother had read to him and Mary. He, too, believed that chivalry had died an untimely death, if it had ever existed outside of books.

But that didn’t give him the power to leave Jessie alone. Something had brought her to him, in the cold, dark hours of an early April evening. Like it or not, as he’d told her earlier, when she reached out to him, she’d involved him.

Jessie had crossed into the kitchen. She stared out the window, into the desolate expanse of a still-dormant yard, her back to him in a sign of dismissal.

He ignored it.

In the entryway, he propped a shoulder against the doorjamb.

Even though he didn’t speak, she asked, “Are you still here?”

He’d had more promising beginnings with women. Somehow, though, nothing else had ever seemed this important. “Tell me about it, Jessie. Talk to me.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, the gown swishing, she turned around. Silence, unbroken by anything except their breathing, seemed to simmer.

“What do you want to hear? About the loneliness? Or the way my arms ache to hold a baby? The way I dream, every night, of having a child of my own?”

“How about the way you want to make up for what you didn’t have?”

She flinched, as if he’d slapped her.

“I’ve seen you with the kids at the center. You love them,” he said by way of an apology. “Most of us volunteer once a week, but you’re there almost every day, aren’t you?”

“They need the help.”

He nodded. “What about Jessie?” Closing in, he added, “What do you need?”

“I already told you. I need a child of my own.”

“Not this way.”

She looked up at him, layers of dark blond falling away from her face and revealing a side of her he’d never imagined until tonight. She’d always been tough, never vulnerable; independent, never needy. It was all there, though. It compelled him, made him want to protect her.

“What do you care, Kurt?”

Once, maybe, he might not have. Now, hearing the edge of pain in her tone, watching the shadows beneath her eyes and seeing the defeat in the curve of her shoulders, he cared.

He moved into the warmth of the room, realizing Jessie didn’t radiate the same welcome. With the toe of his boot, he hooked a chair leg and dragged it toward him. He sat on the chair backward, arms folded across the top. Whether she knew it or not, it promised to be a long night.

He didn’t intend to leave until he got what he wanted: answers, a telephone number and her sworn promise.

If there was one thing that took equal importance with his ranch and his family, it was winning.

“Mary always said you were stubborn.”

He looked at her. “She said the same thing about you.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. “I’m not stubborn.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’m not,” she insisted.

“Give me the phone number, Jessie. Get this over with.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Then tell me where a husband fits into this picture.”

She shook her head and her hair once again fell in gentle disarray around her face. Kurt had to resist the inclination to run his fingers through the tousled strands, discovering for himself if it was as soft as it looked.

“I don’t need a man, any man.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But so is reality.”

She hadn’t come any closer to him, but unlike at his house and in her foyer, here she couldn’t escape except by getting past him. That wasn’t likely to happen. “A broken engagement isn’t a good reason to swear off men.”

“Yes, it is.”

It was back, that ghost of pain in her eyes. He wanted to vanquish it. “Samuel Bucket was a jerk.”

“You’re not going to get an argument from me.”

“Not all men are.”

“Really?”

He expected to hear sarcasm in the word. It wasn’t there. Instead it was a simple, honest question. “Take me, for example.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s take you. You barge into my house when I’m already in bed, lie about the neighbors watching us, lie about calling Sheriff McCall.”

Kurt raised a brow.

“Not only that, but you’ve made something that’s none of your concern into some sort of personal quest. And you refuse to leave.” Then quietly, she added, “How do you define the word jerk?”

He winced, the barb finding its mark. “Not by your standards.”

“Obviously.”

Kurt gave thanks for the distance between them. The sides of the chair back carved into his thighs. He liked the dig of pain. It distracted him, prevented him from ending this conversation in a way she wouldn’t like.

“I’m your sister’s friend,” she said. “Nothing more. Please, just let it go.”

He’d given himself the same argument earlier, telling himself he had no right to get involved. Hadn’t washed any better then than it did now. “By default, Jessie, that makes you my friend. You do my books, making you my employee, and we volunteer together at the center. Add in the fact you asked for a personal donation for your cause, and I say I’ve got more than a casual interest.”

“All that’s true, so you of all people should understand why this is important to me.”

“And you of all people should see why this is insane,” he countered.

“I don’t.”

“Kids need two parents.”

Her chin was set at a defiant tilt, another side he’d never seen from her. “They need someone to love them.”

“Feed that line to someone else, not to me. I don’t buy it. If kids only needed one person, they wouldn’t be at the center looking for something they could get at home.”

“Problem is, Kurt, those kids don’t have parents like I would be. Those parents are often overworked, stressed and burned-out. They have nothing left to give.”

“And you’re different?”

“I am. I’ve got a lot of experience from being at the center. You know as well as I do that I work from home. I’ll be there all day, every day. There won’t be day care or a lot of baby-sitters. A lot of two-parent families aren’t that lucky. My schedule can fit my baby’s.”

In her hands, conviction was a powerful weapon.

“I will be a great mother, give my child all he needs.” She paused, a small, private smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Or all she needs.”

Breath escaped his lungs. He’d hoped to see that expression—one of softness and maternal expectation—on Belinda’s face. The opposite had occurred when he’d broached the subject of starting their family.

She’d frowned, pursing her lips and stating, quite frankly, that she had no intention of ever sharing her body with another human being.

That had been the beginning of the end.

The rest had come when he found out that her assertion hadn’t been exactly accurate. She might not have wanted to share her body with a baby, but she’d had no compunction about sharing her intimacies with a man other than her husband.

Kurt was a fast learner and he’d sure as hell learned from the mistake of marriage.

“I can be a good parent, can’t you see, Kurt?”

He regarded Jessie, missing nothing. The fire in her eyes had replaced despair. Again, something new. Passion. Amazing. He’d seen Samuel Bucket in a bar the night he and Jessie broke up. Bucket had called her the Ice Princess.

No way. Fire and ice didn’t mix. And tonight Kurt had been singed by the fire in her eyes.

“Things will be perfect,” she said.

“One person can’t be all things to another human being.”

“I can and will.”

Kurt forced himself to stay in his chair. The urging to get up, grab hold of her and shake some sense into her ran rampant through him, demanding action.

Unconsciously his hands formed fists. “Wait a while. Wait until you find a man.”

“I’ve already tried.”

Her lids shuttered her eyes temporarily, and when she opened them again, the transformation stunned him. He’d been right earlier, fire and ice didn’t mix. Ice extinguished fire. It also dimmed her blue eyes, clouding them like the leading edge of a storm obscured a mountain peak.

“You rejected me.”

Shrapnel landed in his heart. “You can’t think—”

“I offered myself to you.” She gulped at a breath of air. “You turned me down.”

Good God. She thought it was personal. “Look, Jess—”

“It’s okay, Kurt. I shouldn’t have expected you to put yourself out for me. You were right, I wasn’t thinking straight. Why do you think I made an appointment at a clinic?”

He inhaled sharply. “Because you can’t get a man?”

“Because no man wants me.” Tears once again welled in her eyes. “And because I don’t need a man to be whole and complete.”

Beneath her bravado, he heard the woven strands of uncertainty and disbelief.

He stood, shoving aside the chair. “You’re a desirable woman.”

“Of course I am. Hollywood calls at least once a week.”

If he was on the wrong end of a branding iron, he’d be a whole lot more sure what to do than he was right now.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious I need my beauty sleep.”

He reached out and clamped his hand around her upper arm when she tried to brush past him. “I’m not leaving.”

“The couch is lumpy.”

It was back...the fire he’d glimpsed earlier. She was a paradox and that intrigued him. He wouldn’t leave now, no matter what common sense encouraged.

“Good night, Kurt.”

Reluctantly he released her.

Gathering the hem of her gown, she hurried away. The slam of her bedroom door echoed through the small house and all the way down into his gut.

He’d run headlong into a situation he didn’t begin to comprehend. He disliked the feeling, and that left him only one option—he had to work the puzzle, look at all the pieces from each angle. He had to figure out what the hell had gotten into Jessie. Then he had to figure out how to get her out of it.

Yeah. It promised to be a long night. Even longer, he realized when he glanced at the couch. She hadn’t lied. It was lumpy. Too short, understuffed and lumpy. And she hadn’t gotten him a blanket.

Served him right.

His mother often warned him of the penalties for trying to run someone else’s life.

Kurt pulled off his boots and dropped them near the end of the couch. He stretched out, tucked his hands behind his neck and stared at the ceiling.

Jessie needed him, even if she didn’t know it.

She moved around in the bedroom, the whispers of her actions carrying in the stillness. Deprived of the sight of her, his memory seeped in to fill the void.

He saw Jessie, beseeching him to agree to her crazy idea, the way she dipped her head when he turned her down and the way her lips curled when she argued with him.

Superimposed over the top were images of her looking at him, her smile secretly sensual, her fingers feathering into silky strands of hair and a spark of passion in her eyes that made his insides constrict.

She was rich and complex, desirable, vulnerable, feminine and in need of a protector.

In need of him.

Kurt shifted.

He hadn’t thought of himself as anyone’s protector, particularly a woman who wouldn’t welcome it.

Adjusting his jeans, he wondered why the hell a man who didn’t believe in chivalry was being driven by exactly that.

“Going somewhere?”

Jessie froze, her hand curved around the handle of her suitcase. With her heart hammering in her throat, speech was out of the question. Reluctantly releasing her hold, she slowly turned toward him.

He stood in the entry to the kitchen, looking disturbingly refreshed and determined. The scent of alpine air seemed to brand him. Kurt Majors was every inch a male. A determined, impossible male, her mind added.

Thoughts jumbled and tumbled, making the formation of a complete sentence all but impossible. “I thought you were—”

“Gone?” Kurt shook his head. “Told you I intended to stop you from going sperm hunting.”

His voice slid through her, the masculine cadence both a promise and a threat.

“By the way, I emptied your suitcase. Coffee?”

“Coffee?” she asked, mentally stumbling as she tried to keep up with his conversation.

“Made a fresh pot.”

Fuming, she leaned down to unzip her suitcase. As he’d said, it was empty. “You have no right.” She swung around. “This is my life, my choice. Mind your own business.”

“Always this cranky before your first cup?”

How was it possible she hadn’t heard him moving around? She’d lain in bed, listening for any sound. When she was convinced he was still asleep, or better yet, that he’d left her house, she’d crept from bed and cracked open her bedroom door. The pillows on the couch were strewn haphazardly across the cushions, but there had been no sign of Kurt.

While she had showered, a mixture of emotions had cascaded over her the same way the water did. Time hadn’t helped; his rejection still rankled. More, her own foolishness stung. She wasn’t normally impulsive and now wished to heaven she hadn’t deviated from that routine.

With a sigh, Jessie had pushed away the pain and regret, letting them wash down the drain.

In their place excitement had slowly started to build as realization dawned. Today she was supposed to drive to Denver. With luck, by this time next year she’d have her own child to nurture.

After drying off, she’d dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt, her insides humming with anticipation.

That lasted until she saw Kurt.

Yesterday she’d seen him as the answer to her prayers. This morning he quite literally stood between her and her dreams.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

Telling herself that she could buy clothes in Denver, she grabbed her purse.

“Your car keys are in my pocket.”

Her temper flashed. She stalked into the kitchen. Ignoring the fact that he was holding a mug of coffee and paying no attention to the differences in their height and weight, she poked her finger into his chest. “You are the most insufferable, arrogant, male...”

“Yes?”

“...jerk that I have ever met.”

“Ouch.”

“Get out of my house and my life.”

“No can do.” He reached down and shoved the cup onto the telephone stand. “Tell you what, I’m willing to make a deal.”

Her eyes narrowed, but her breaths continued in shortened gasps of fury. She dropped her hands to her sides, suddenly realizing she was touching him. From the flash in his eyes, she knew he’d noticed, too.

Something was happening to her, something she didn’t like, something she couldn’t stop.

She had never misbehaved in her life. Now, in seconds, Kurt had pushed past all her inhibitions, uncovering parts of her personality that she hadn’t suspected existed. It scared her.

“If you can convince me, in say, five days, that this is a smart thing, that collecting the donation of some man you don’t know, a man who could be a rapist or murderer—”

“More likely a med school student—”

“If you can convince me this is a good idea, I’ll drive you to Denver myself.” His voice dropped to a cajoling tenor. “What do you say? Deal?”

“It’s not your deal to make.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I’ve got your clothes and your keys.”

Her fingernails carved half-moons into her palms. “You’re holding me prisoner.”

“Offering you a chance to think this through.”

“I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Go ahead. Doesn’t matter to me if this is splashed all over the Courier.”

He was bluffing. He had to be. “It won’t be.”

“Miss Starr doesn’t have contacts?”

Jessie’s stomach tightened and frustration clawed at her.

“Five days, Jessie. I’ll convince you to do this the right way.”

“Your way,” she bit out, hardly able to keep her thoughts straight. He’d backed her into a corner, a place she swore she’d never allow herself to be in again.

She’d fought long and hard, surviving the years of being alone and unwanted, helpless to make her own decisions. And she’d nearly thrown away her independence on Sam. Instead she’d learned the lesson, in her heart as well as her mind. Reinforced by pain, it wasn’t one she’d soon forget.

“well?”

“Never,” she said.

“That’s your final answer?”

“Yes.” She’d won. She’d stood up for what she believed, had refused to cower, had proven she was in control of her own life.

“Play it your way.”

She exhaled. Now that she’d won, she could afford to be gracious. She knew he cared about her as a friend. Sometimes friends did extreme things. As long as he stayed out of her business from now on, she’d forgive him this once.

Somehow, though, his capitulation seemed easy. Too easy, maybe. “I appreciate your concern. Really I do.” In a way, she did.

Since she had no relatives, Mary had become Jessie’s confidant. Mary had expressed her reservations about Jessie’s decision to become pregnant, but since the first time they’d spoken of it, Mary had resolutely kept her opinions to herself.

Brother and sister had nothing in common, apparently. “Now if you’ll give me the keys, please.”

‘I’d rather we hadn’t had to do it this way.”

Before she had time to blink, he’d swung her from the floor.

Her breath whooshed out when her stomach connected with his shoulder. She hung upside down, grabbing for his well-worn leather belt, staring at the contours of his buttocks and powerful thighs.

She struggled, wiggling around, but didn’t dare move too much for fear of dislodging herself and toppling to the floor. “Kurt!”

“Worked my way through college calf roping,” he said, a palm pressed against her spine. “Keep still before I practice those ties on you.”

“You can’t do this. You said...”

“I said I’d stop you.”

He pivoted, and she fought a wave of dizziness. The room spun beneath her.

“Put me down!”

He ignored her.

“You were going to give me five days!”

“I will.”

When he opened the front door, winter’s last lash stole what little remained of her breath.

“Morning, Mrs. Johnson!” Kurt called out.

Jessie kicked, futilely trying to connect with bone and muscle.

“Morning, Kurt. Jessie.”

Jessie groaned, fully convinced she was going to die of mortification now that the neighbors had witnessed this horrible event. She wouldn’t die, though, she vowed, until after she killed Kurt.

“Are you two going somewhere?”

“Taking Jessie away for a few days.”

“Have a nice time. I’ll keep an eye on the house.”

He opened the door to his pickup truck and dumped Jessie unceremoniously on the seat. Then he leaned toward her. “Unless you want the neighbors to really enjoy the show, stay right where you are.”

She battled the temptation to run, but he was taller, faster and didn’t mind making a scene. Jessie didn’t want this to be splashed all over the Courier, but she doubted he’d mind at all.

“Understand?”

She slumped in her seat, and he slammed the door.

Within seconds, he sat beside her on the unyielding, cold leather. When he looked at her, his eyes were every bit as cold and unyielding.

“You’re kidnapping me.” Shock dulled her words.

“Yep.”

He had her; they both knew it.

A chill chased through her. Question was, what did he intend to do next?


Three

What had she gotten herself into?

Anger and frustration were two sides of the only coin she possessed. No matter which way that coin landed, she didn’t have a chance.

Kurt moved around the kitchen, ignoring the impatient tapping of her fingers on the table.

She could call for Columbine Crossing’s one taxi, but Kurt would stand in the way of her leaving. If she called Mary, Mary would probably throw her alliance with her brother...after all, Mary hadn’t liked Jessie’s motherhood idea much better than Kurt did. Even if Jessie called someone from the children’s center, Kurt was too well-known and—damn it—respected for anyone to take her seriously.

She fumed. If she didn’t get out of here in under an hour, she wouldn’t make it to Denver in time.

Irritation gnawed at her. He had no right, was out of his mind. She’d told him that half a dozen times in the truck. He’d turned up the radio. Garth Brooks singing about a long-neck bottle of beer only drowned out her complaints.

The fact she knew Kurt would never do anything to harm her, that he believed he had her best interests at heart, did nothing to improve her mood. If anything, it made it worse.

Sunshine, Kurt’s very pregnant golden retriever, waddled across to Jessie, the dog’s toenails clicking on the scarred vinyl flooring. Sunshine placed her head in Jessie’s lap. At least it was nice to have one ally.

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” she repeated incredulously.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

He was acting so cool and calm, as if something like this happened every day. Maybe to him it did. It didn’t to her. “Being held prisoner killed my appetite.”

“Fine.”

Agitated, she stood. Sunshine gave a soft whine of protest, but then curled up beneath the table, a paw across her nose, ignoring the humans.

Jessie strode to the sink, her footsteps sounding out her hostility. He didn’t react; he just hummed the same Garth Brooks tune that he’d cranked up in the truck.

What was it about men that made them think themselves omniscient?

Sam had been the same way, always knowing what was best for her, even convincing her that making love before marriage was a good idea. After all, he’d said, he wanted to make sure they were compatible before they actually tied the knot.

She pressed her hands to her face.

Agreeing with Sam’s suggestion wrapped her dreams in the reality of an unhappily ever after.

When she found a way out of Kurt’s reach—and she would, in under an hour—she vowed she would never see him again, He could find someone else to do his bookkeeping, find some other woman’s life to interfere in. Those thoughts provided the only solace she’d had since he’d pounded on her door last night.

“I’m making eggs.”

She remained silent.

Outside, a layer of frost had painted the budding branches on trees...trees that stood as solitary against the elements as she felt against Kurt.

As far as she looked, there wasn’t another house in sight. The vista of high mountain prairie stretched before her, boldly spreading out until surrendering at the base of Eagle’s Peak.

She’d known Kurt and Mary when their parents had bought their first few acres of land. Now, as sole owner, Kurt had turned it into a thousand. Sheer determination accomplished his goals, Miss Starr had once reported.

Jessie belatedly realized she should have recognized that Kurt’s determination would prove to be her undoing.

Was it only last night that Kurt and his home represented hope?

The scent of strong coffee permeated the oversize room. The sound of a satisfying sizzle accompanied the aroma. She turned in time to see him dribble the rest of the whipped eggs into the waiting iron skillet.

Her body betrayed her. Her stomach growled.

Without offering a second time, he poured himself a mug of coffee, taking it straight up, the way one of her foster father’s had, with whiskey.

That memory made her shiver.

“Cold?”

From the bones, out. Didn’t Kurt miss a thing? “I’m fine. As fine as someone who’s been kidnapped can be.”

“Good.”

She scowled at him, without any effect. He took another drag from the mug, and when the toaster popped up two perfect slices of bread, her stomach growled once more.

Kurt removed a single plate from the cupboard, then pulled a knife and fork from a drawer. “Even a condemned man gets a last meal,” he stated. “It’s okay to admit defeat.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I intend to.”

Their gazes connected. He held it as captive as he’d earlier held her body. In that moment, things crystallized. Kidnapping her hadn’t been an impulse. She should have known that. He did things carefully, calculatingly.

To win.

A second shiver, this time nothing to do with a chill, raced through her.

“There’s enough for both of us. If you intend to fight me, you need to keep your strength up.”

He’d offered her a way out without having to back down. She appreciated that more than words could express. He wasn’t an ogre. At least not all of the time. “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”

“Lady, I might never let you go.” He set another place at the table and fed a couple more slices of bread into the toaster’s waiting slots. “So, Jessie,” he said, pouring her an unasked for—but very much needed—cup of coffee. “What are you going to tell your child when he asks about his father?”

Hunger faded. His chivalry had only been an act to catch her off guard. He was an ogre.

She slid into a chair, her spine supported by the rigid back. “I was going to decide on that when the time was right.”

“How many other things haven’t you thought about? Isn’t there a place on the birth certificate for the father’s name?”

“Of course.”

“And if I’d agreed to your business arrangement, would you have put my name there?”

She wrapped her hands around the mug he’d placed in front of her, not because she was going to take a drink, but because she needed something to hang on to, something to do.

She should have realized Kurt would show no quarter; he hadn’t last night, nor had he given up this morning. Up until three hours ago, she’d thought tenacity was a positive trait.

Time ticked, tension threading between each second.

“Would you have put my name there?” he repeated very, very quietly.

“No.”

Thunder clouded his eyes, darkening them to stormy forest green. His brow furrowed and a pulse thumped in his temple. She should have lied.

She should have lied.

“And you wanted me to keep quiet about it being my kid? You wanted me to sit back and live in the same town as you and watch you raise our child, my child, my child, and pretend nothing happened, that I had no part in it?”

The words were carefully cloaked in a quiet tone that scared her much more than his anger.

At that moment, she saw things clearly from Kurt’s point of view. She winced.

She’d always considered herself unselfish—until she was faced with the awful realization that in asking him to help her out, she had been anything but unselfish.

He shoved his untouched plate toward the middle of the table.

She shrunk back.

“Hadn’t thought of that, either?”

This time, his question landed with a squeeze around her midsection, like a lasso inexorably being tightened, cutting off her air.

“Why, Jessie?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Kurt wanted answers, deep answers, ones that threatened to bare her soul. And he deserved them.

She doubted she’d done anything more painful in her entire life.

“You were right earlier,” she admitted quietly, looking at him and accepting the full force of the hostility he directed toward her. “When you said I was trying to make up for what I didn’t have, you were right.” Until now, she hadn’t been honest with anyone, including herself.

Jessie hoped he’d acknowledge what she’d said and allow both of them to move on. Instead he remained silent, waiting while she exposed the secrets she’d rather keep buried.

“I’ve never told anyone else this, not even Mary.”

He nodded.

Realizing that was all the encouragement he intended to give her, she continued. “I grew up believing in ideals. I wish I still did. I was found on the steps of the church. The doctors thought I was about a week old.”

Kurt cursed.

“No one knew where I came from, or when I was born. I’ve never had a birthday celebration. I don’t even know when my real birthday is.”

Jessie stared into the inkiness of the cooling black coffee. “I never had my own room, my own clothes, my own family.” She paused, the past mingling with the present. “The only thing I ever truly had of my own was the teddy bear that they found me with.”

A newly forming tear prickled the corner of her eye. She wished more than anything, that she could blink it away. “Even that, one of my foster parents took away when I misbehaved.”

She looked at Kurt then. The furrow between his brows had eased, but not the anger. She wondered, though, if it was still directed at her. “I wouldn’t eat my peas,” she said, the distance of years not helping her to make sense of the incident. “And for that, they took away my teddy bear. I cried myself to sleep for three nights. No one cared.”





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