"They did."
"Is he Luke's friend, or yours?" Matt asked, pausing to stare down at her.
She fidgeted. "That's personal. You and I are just friends, Matt."
"Of course we are," he agreed. "But friends take care of each other. Our Mr. Walker has a cold, nasty temper and he seems to be going out of his way to antagonize you. I felt a little guilty about it, so I came out to see why Luke brought him home."
His wording went right by her. "Crissy likes him," she said.
"Crissy likes me, too," he said pointedly.
She couldn't say any more without giving away secrets. She grimaced. "Matt, be a dear and stop grilling me, could you?"
"Is he why you left New York so suddenly?"
She glared at him. "Hey. That's too personal!"
"Sure it is. We've already agreed that we're friends, haven't we?" His dark eyes narrowed. "Crissy looks a lot like him, don't you think?"
"Matt!"
He let out a long sigh. "Well, she does. I'm not blind or stupid, and I knew more about Fred Nash than most people. He wasn't in any shape to become a father..."
"Oh, God, not you, too?" she groaned.
"Yes. Me, too. For heaven's sake, hasn't it dawned on you that I was responsible for Tom being in Jacobsville? That I planted the seed in his mind, encouraged him to do a market study of the area and move down here?"
She actually gasped. "You didn't!"
"I did," he said firmly. "He had a right to know. Not that I said anything about Crissy to him. I thought fate would take care of that And it has. He knows, too, doesn't he?"
She glowered up at him.
"Of course he knows," he answered his own question. "He isn't blind, either. And he's been giving you fits ever since he moved here. Damn, I'm sorry."
She slumped. "Matt, you were only trying to help. But it's all such a mess."
"Most messes can be cleaned up with the right broom." He tilted her face up, smiled and bent to kiss her on the cheek. "Cheer up. The world isn't going to end. In fact, things are going to work out beautifully. All you have to do is give them a chance."
The squeak of the barn door opening brought both heads up. Tom was standing there with Crissy beside him, glaring blackly at the newcomers.
"There you are," Matt said genially, still clinging tightly to Elysia's hand. "Kate phoned. When she couldn't find you, she found me. She has news."
Tom stilled. "Bad news?"
''Hell, no," Matt said, chuckling. "She's pregnant You're going to be an uncle again."
Tom whistled through his teeth. "Imagine that. They've tried for years to have a second child." He laughed with pure delight. "I'll bet they're both over the moon."
"Kate sounded that way when I spoke to her," Matt agreed. "She said Jacob's already planning a new nursery. He wants a girl this time. I think Kate does, too."
"They'll be happy with whatever they get. They're both crazy about kids."
"Their son will like having a playmate."
"And Kate is a wonderful mother," Tom added. "I'll call her as soon as I get home. Why are you holding Elysia's hand?" he added so abruptly that it caught Matt by surprise.
"Was I?" He loosened her fingers with a smug look that neither of them saw.
"He can hold my hand if he wants to," Ely-sia told Tom.
"I noticed," he said coldly. "You must like him. You haven't thrown anything at him. What's the matter, can't get your shoe off?"
"Just you give me a minute and we'll see...!" She struggled with a loafer, using Matt's arm for a prop, but she was immediately tugged upward.
“Stop that," Matt muttered.
"Did she throw a shoe at you, Mr. Tom?" Crissy asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes, she did," he replied curtly. "A high-heeled one, at that. She could have knocked my head off."
"That was the idea, all right," Elysia said sharply.
"Now, now." Matt stepped between them. "This isn't setting a good example for the shortest member of our little friendly group."
Tom and Elysia stopped glaring at each other and glanced at Crissy, who was watching them with growing worry.
Tom wiped the anger from his face and smiled nonchalantly. "It's just a slight disagreement, cupcake," he said. "Nothing to worry about. Isn't that right, Elysia?"
She cleared her throat "Of course."
"Then why did my mommy throw a shoe at you?" Crissy asked the tall man.
"Because he called me a—!"
"Ellie!" Matt interrupted.
Elysia clenched her teeth and forced a smile in Tom's general direction. "Never mind."
"Don't you like each other?" the child asked plaintively. "Mommy, you have to like Mr. Tom because he's my friend."
Those green, green eyes would have melted stone, which Elysia wasn't. She went down on one knee. "I like Mr. Tom," she told the child. "I really do."
"And do you like my mommy?" the child asked the man.
He drew in a short breath. "Sure. I think she's just spiffy."
"Huh?"
He glanced at Elysia with cold green eyes. "Terrific. Super. A truly wonderful person."
"Thank goodness," Crissy said, smiling her relief. "Now you have to stop yelling at each other, okay?"
Tom and Elysia stared at each other. "Okay," they chorused gruffly.
"Let's have a cup of coffee," Matt said quickly. "Elysia, do you mind?"
"Not at all." It was something to do, to get her out of range of that...that man!
The men followed slowly back toward the house with Crissy in tow. By the time they arrived in the dining room, Elysia was calm and coolly friendly, even to her daughter's hated friend. But she was relieved when Tom left, just the same.
He became a regular visitor to the ranch after that. Sometimes he came when Luke was there alone with the child, but occasionally he showed up for Sunday dinner. Elysia tolerated him, but she couldn't forget the horrible things he'd said to her, his cold treatment of her. Even understanding his past didn't make him any more welcome in her home. She knew that he was just pretending to tolerate her company so that he could spend time with his daughter.
She still wasn't sure if he might try to claim custody of Crissy, and it made her nervous. She saw the way he looked at the child, with pride and tenderness. Crissy was equally fond of him. It was going to complicate Elysia's life, but she didn't know what to do. Tom had every right to see his child. But it cut right into Elysia's heart every time she saw him. The past might be over, but her feelings for him had never wavered. They grew harder to contain as she saw that rare tenderness he displayed with Crissy. With no one else was he as open, as vulnerable. To make matters worse, when Elysia came into a room, he seemed to freeze over.
She didn't know that it was jealousy motivating him, that seeing her with Matt that evening had provoked all sorts of doubts about her feelings.
She was getting Sunday dinner when Tom came into the kitchen to ask for cups to go with the carafe of coffee.
“They're in that cupboard." With her hands busy making rolls, she had to nod with her head toward the cabinets.
"I'll get them."
She kneaded risen dough, trying not to notice how nice he looked in slacks and a dark jacket with a delicately red striped shirt and paisley tie. He wore his hair short and neat but she had fantasies about how he might look with his hair tousled or down around his shoulders like his Native American ancestors...
"Crissy wants to know if you'll let her come home with me to meet Moose," he said.
She froze. She knew she shouldn't be thinking of making up excuses, but she was.
"I know you don't approve," he said quietly. "But she's my child, too."
She glanced at him worriedly and then away again. "It isn't that I don't approve," she faltered.
He put the cups down and went to stand close behind her. "But you want her to like Matt, is that it?" he demanded.
She whirled. "Whatever made you ask that?"
He searched her wide eyes. "You're involved with him, aren't you?" he demanded.
She grimaced. "No, I'm not," she said through her teeth. "But I wish I were. He's handsome and sexy and..."
"Experienced," he said for her, bitterly.
The tone of his voice slowed her down. She looked at him quietly, seeing emotional scars that probably were invisible to most people. They were vivid to her, perhaps because they shared the same sort of past.
"Experience doesn't make a man," she replied. "There are many things much more important."
"Such as?"
"Tenderness," she said promptly. "The ability to carry on a conversation. Intelligence. A sense of humor."
He glared down at her. "I suppose Matt has all those qualities," he said.
"He's my friend," she told him. "Only my friend."
His green eyes narrowed. "And what am I?"
Her heart jumped. She didn't want to be pinned down with such a question. She turned her attention back to her dough.
"We were friends once," he continued, as if she'd spoken. "I valued your opinion. We got along well together."
"All that changed," she reminded him.
"Yes. I got drunk and made the mistake of my life," he said bitterly. "I've lived with it, but it hasn't been easy. Probably not for you, either," he added perceptively. "You were no more a rounder than I was."
She looked at him wide-eyed. "Excuse me, that's not what you said when that French Don Juan made some loud remarks about me on the street."
He grimaced. "I was jealous," he said flatly.
Her hands stilled in the dough as she stared at him. "You were what?"
He shrugged. "I hated his guts," he said shortly. "I couldn't imagine you with a man like that, but I wasn't thinking clearly. You're very attractive," he added reluctantly. "I can't blame other men for wanting you, too."
His almost unnoticed slip fascinated her. She glanced at him hesitantly. "Do you... want me?" she asked daringly.
His heart jumped in his chest. His face hardened.
She backtracked. "Sorry. Unfortunate question—"
His mouth cut off the words. He'd moved so quickly that she didn't even see him coming. He kissed her a little clumsily, because it had been a long time. But after a minute, as she began to respond shyly, he started to get the hang of it again.
"Of course I want you," he growled against her mouth.
He pulled her close, ignoring her floury hands, and wrapped her up against him from head to toe. His lips were hungry, ardent. It had been years, and she was as soft and sweet as he remembered her. He groaned under his breath and deepened the kiss.
She felt as if she'd died and gone to heaven. He wanted her. She wanted him, too. She pressed closer and whimpered.
Tom forgot that there were people in the other room. He lifted her clear of the floor and kissed her until his mouth hurt. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed. Now, his lack of love came home with a violence that made him oblivious to everything else. In all the world, there was only one woman for him, and he had her in his arms right now.
She felt him stiffen finally and her feet touched the floor. He was breathing roughly, but he didn't look as if he felt the least bit guilty. He touched her face gently and brushed the hair back from her face.
"You don't look a day older than you did in New York," he said unsteadily. "You're as lovely as you were then."
She searched his face with eyes that were just as inquisitive as his. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to trust him. But they weren't married and he wanted his daughter. She hesitated.
He drew in a slow breath. "It's too soon, isn't it?" he asked. "All right. Suppose you go out with me, just the two of us, tomorrow night? I'll take you out to eat and we'll find somewhere to dance."
"In Jacobsville?"
"In Houston," he informed. "We'll need to leave about five. Can you close up early?"
"I will," she said immediately.
He smiled, and his whole face changed. "Maybe they're right about second chances," he said. "I've missed you."
She knew those words came hard to him. She smiled back. It was like the sun coming out after a long storm.
But the shadows lingered, too. That night, after he went home, Tom had nightmares. His father's mocking, hateful words echoed over and over again in his ears. He wanted Elysia, but the barrier between his brain and his body still existed. Love was a weakness. Sex was a bigger one. His one taste of her had left him aching for months afterward. What would it
be like, now, if he gave in to her? Could he really trust her not to want revenge for the emotional pain she'd suffered after his cold rejection, for leaving her alone to bear their child?
He was tormented by doubts and irrational fears. By morning, he was already regretting his impulsive invitation to Elysia for supper. If he could have found a single logical excuse for backing out, he would have. But as things went, he was forced to go.
When he went to pick her up, he found Elysia wearing a very pretty black lacy dress with short sleeves and a black velvet jacket. She looked elegant and expensive. Considering her inherited wealth, and the amount of money she seemed to earn with her exclusive boutique, it was no wonder that she had the right sort of clothes for any occasion. He remembered painfully well the simple black crepe sheath she'd worn the night he'd seduced her in New York City. It had been a cheap dress, and looked it. The one she was wearing tonight was probably a designer model. With her blond hair in a neat chignon and her pretty feet in simple black high heels, she was a knockout.
"You're staring," she said.
He chuckled. "I suppose I am. You look very nice."
"Thanks. So do you." He was wearing a dark suit, which emphasized his own dark complexion. He looked remote and elegant and very sexy. She lowered her eyes and spoke to his chin. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Hearing her repeat aloud his own doubts startled him.
She glanced up into his eyes and saw the indecision there. "I thought you might be regretting it," she said with a forced smile. "All of this was rather forced on you, wasn't it? You just wanted someone for a night, and now you have a past and a child to show for it." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. If I’d been more streetwise than I was—"
"Crissy is a treasure," he said, interrupting her. "I'll never regret her."
She brightened a little. "Honestly?"
He smiled. "Honestly." He glanced around. "Speaking of Crissy, where is she?"
"There's a carnival in town. Luke took her to eat cotton candy and go on the rides," she replied. "After he'd made sure they were safe, of course." She grinned. "He's very protective of her."
"I noticed. I like Luke," he added.
"So do I. He was my guardian angel when our father was still alive." She searched his bitter eyes. "Oh, Tom, we didn't have much of a childhood, either of us, did we?"
His jaw tautened. "No. It wasn't my father's fault, but that doesn't make the memories any easier." He reached out slowly and touched her soft hair. He grimaced as he moved a little closer, his smile almost apologetic. "I'm not used to touching, or being touched. It's hard for me to talk about how I feel, much less show it."
"I understand."
His dark green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Yes, I think you do." He searched her face. "Could you live with it, though, from day to day? You'd have no guarantee that I could ever be like a normal man."
"If by normal you mean ready, willing and able to sleep with every woman you date, then I'd just as soon have you the way you are," she said flatly. "I'm not risking my life with a man who sees women as a party favor."
He chuckled softly. "Funny, that's just how I feel about women who are rounders."
"See? We have plenty of things in common."
"We always did. You were the only thing that made New York City bearable, and I never even told you. Just seeing you at your desk every morning, smiling and cheerful, made my day." He sighed. "No
t that I realized it until you were gone, of course," he added ruefully.
"They say we never know what we're missing until we don't have it anymore."
"So they do."
She frowned suddenly. "You asked if I could live with the way you are," she recalled.
He shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Maybe it was too soon to say anything. But eventually, I'd like it if we got married. I hope you would, too."
She whistled silently. "There'd be a lot of adjustments to make," she said.
"Oh, yes, there would," he agreed. "Cris-sy's never known any father except your late husband. This house has been home for you both for a while. She's used to Uncle Luke being around constantly. I'm not an easy companion, and I like my own way—I expect you do, too. We'd have to do a lot of compromising."
"I like paying my own way," she added.
"So do I." He smiled. "So what?"
"I don't plan to give up my boutique."
His eyebrows arched. "Did I ask you to?"
"It takes up a lot of my time," she began.
"My work takes up a lot of mine," he told her. "But we'd have weekends with each other and Crissy. She'd have a balanced family."
"She doesn't know that you're her father," she said worriedly.
"One day, she will. We don't have to decide anything in the next five hours, do we?"
She laughed out loud. "Tom, you make it all seem so simple."
"Generally life is simple. People complicate it when emotions get in the way." He looked at her openly, with tender appreciation. "You're amazingly pretty."
She flushed. "I am not. I'm five pounds overweight for my height and I have wrinkles."
"I'd be getting there, myself, if I didn't spend so much time chasing Moose out of things."
"Your dog?"
"My small horse. Once you meet him, it will take a while to get used to him. It would be all right as long as you don't have anything fragile."
She cocked her head at him. "This sounds serious."
"It is. He's still a puppy and he has no respect for personal property, unless it's his."
"I like dogs," she said.
"That's because you haven't met Moose."
"When am I going to?"
He eyed her warily. "I was hoping to put that off until the very last minute, just in case. But if you have to, you have to. How about tomorrow? You can bring Crissy with you."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 163
