After the way they’d parted company a week ago, he’d expected Anne Baker to be uncivil, or at the very least, ignore him. She’d done neither. Except for a slight tension in her body and the way she paused before speaking, as if considering her words carefully, she’d treated him as if they were old acquaintances. She included him in the conversation, spoke highly of him to his daughter and consulted him on every clothing purchase. It was driving him crazy.
“But it won’t be cold during the day. Not for a couple of months. And I’ll be taking the bus to school, so I won’t need a warm coat. Besides—” Laurel pulled the jacket off the hanger “—it goes great with that skirt we saw at the other store.”
“The one that’s too short?” Anne asked.
“I’m thirteen.”
Anne grinned. “That doesn’t make the skirt any longer.”
“But it’s in style.”
“But you’re still not buying it.”
Laurel looked mutinous. “I’m the one who has to wear these clothes to school. You probably don’t even own one denim skirt.”
“True, but if I did, it would be bigger than a bandage.” She touched Laurel on the nose. “Give in graciously. It’s easier for all of us.” Her smile remained teasing.
Laurel turned to him. “Da-ad.”
He hated to agree with Anne, but he had no choice. He shook his head.
Laurel sighed heavily. “You guys have no sense of style.”
“I know.” Anne took her arm and steered her over to a selection of jeans. “How about something like this to go with the jacket?”
Laurel frowned. “You said it was impractical.”
“Compromise.”
“You’re the best.”
Laurel rose on her toes and kissed Anne’s cheek. The older woman flushed with pleasure, then darted him a glance. “I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured.
He didn’t know if she meant the jacket or the kiss, but it didn’t matter. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe again. Laurel had accepted Anne so easily.
The kicker of it all was that Anne was either a superb actress or not the bitch he’d thought her to be. In the last—he glanced at his watch—six hours, Laurel had run the gamut of her emotions. Anne had handled them all well. Not always easily, but well. Even the potential squawk about the short skirt had been averted by the judicious use of humor.
They came to a kiosk selling fudge. He bought three pieces and passed them out. The rich chocolate required drinks and by the time everyone had finished their snack, they were too tired to do more than sit on the level above the ice skaters and watch the antics below.
Anne picked up her purse. “I have to call the office,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
He watched her walk away. Laurel chatted on about clothes and accessories, but he didn’t pay attention. He was mesmerized by the sway of Anne’s hips and the way her tailored cotton trousers outlined her generous curves. The soft silky shirt she wore clung to her breasts and emphasized their fullness. So different from Ellen who’d had the height and figure of a fashion model.
He preferred long and lean to petite and curvy, he told himself. Besides, whatever it had been that had sparked between them was nothing more than nerves. They’d both been tense about that first meeting. Today, nothing like that had happened.
He leaned back on the bench and nodded at what Laurel was saying. Of course he’d been careful to never touch Anne, so his theory remained untested, but he was confident the problem had been solved.
“Oh, Dad, look at the girl down there.” Laurel pointed to one of the skaters. The young girl jumped into a high turn, then landed and spun around several times. “She’s so good. Can I go down and watch?”
Jake glanced around the rink, then nodded. “Stay by that bench there,” he said. “No shopping.”
“Okay.” Laurel piled her purchases on the seat next to him. “I won’t be long.” She gave him a quick kiss, then hurried to the stairs. By the time Anne returned from making her call, Laurel had already found a seat in front of the skaters.
“Where’s Laurel?” Anne asked.
“Down there.” He pointed.
“Oh, aren’t those kids incredible? I always wanted to learn how to skate but there wasn’t an indoor rink where I grew up and we certainly never got cold enough weather to freeze a pond.”
He shifted the packages and made room for her on the bench. Anne glanced anxiously from him to the seat, then carefully sat down on the far end. She held her purse on her lap. He could see the apprehension in her pale blue eyes. He didn’t blame her; now that they were alone, he could feel his own concerns returning.
He shifted until he was facing her. “Everything all right at the office?”
She nodded.
Most of her lipstick was long gone. He studied her mouth, especially her full lower lip. The corners trembled, then curved up. He found himself smiling in return.
He raised one arm and rested it on the back of the bench. “What do you do?”
“I would have thought you’d have had me investigated.”
He shrugged. “I did a little checking. I was mostly concerned about a criminal record.”
The trembling stopped and she grinned. “Just from that bank robbery last year.”
“So what do you do?”
“I work for a relocation firm. We help other companies move to the Houston area. We handle everything from permits to housing.” She shifted toward the center of the bench, sliding one leg under the other. “Once I’ve signed a company, the whole team takes over to make the relocation flow smoothly.” She moved her hands as she spoke and leaned forward. “There are all sort of details to be worked out.”
“I can imagine.”
Her eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “The hardest part is recruiting the company. A lot of them are moving out of the Northeast and California, but they don’t all think of Houston as their first choice.”
“You convince them?”
“I do my best. There’s nothing like a little Texas hospitality to persuade the unbelievers.” She raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t everyone want to live in Texas?”
He glanced down at the rink. Laurel perched on the edge of her seat and watched the skaters. “My daughter sure does.”
“I know the move has been hard for both of you, but it’ll get better.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Once school starts and she makes a few friends, everything will change.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I hope you’re right. I couldn’t take another summer like this one.” He sensed she was about to start asking questions he didn’t want to answer. “How long have you worked for the company?”
“Since I graduated from college. There’s been a lot of opportunity for advancement. I’m up for a promotion. To vice president.”
He glanced at her. Now, with her red hair curling to her shoulders, with the casual silky blouse draping the curves of her breasts, with most of her makeup worn away and a tentative smile tugging at her lips, she didn’t look like anyone’s example of an executive on the way up. But he remembered her cool confidence in her office, and the way she’d stood up to him. No doubt Anne Baker could play hardball with the best of them. And win.
“Good luck,” he said sincerely. A hard-won promotion would keep her firmly located in the Houston area and away from his ranch in Colorado.
“Thanks.” She moved her purse off her lap and onto the bench. One of the packages went sliding toward the ground. She grabbed it and set it back on the pile. “Do you think Laurel is going to need anything else?”
Jake eyed the bags. “I can’t imagine anything, but I’m sure she’ll think of something. I still have to buy her a decent jacket and some boots, but we’ll do that back home.”
Anne nodded. “I, um, I had a good time today. Thank you for letting her call me.”
“Look…” Jake cleared his throat and glanced around at the crowds in the shop
ping center. Teenagers walked together in groups. Rich matrons clustered around the expensive boutiques and young women pushed strollers through the open walkways. Conversation filled the multistory center, but their bench, tucked in front of the railing overlooking the ice rink, offered an illusion of privacy. “About last week—” He cleared his throat again. He’d been thinking about it for days, but that didn’t make saying it any easier. “I was out of line. You’ve been great with Laurel. You could have made me pay for some of the things I said, and you didn’t. I appreciate that.”
Instead of looking pleased, or at least superior, Anne surprised him by flushing and staring at her lap. “Don’t thank me. I want to see her again.”
Jake stiffened. “We’re leaving in the morning.”
“I know.” The words came out as a whisper. “I can’t let go. I’ve spent all these years wondering about her, and now, to have met her and spent time with her…” She drew in a breath. “She’s wonderful.”
“Yes, she is.”
Anne leaned forward. Her hair swung out and shadowed her face. “I don’t mean big visits. Not alternating weekends or anything. I understand that I have no legal rights, but maybe just a couple of days over Christmas break or in the summer. A phone call now and then. Just to stay in touch.”
The fear deep inside him grew with each word. He wanted to grab Laurel and disappear into the crowd. He wanted to take back ever meeting this woman, ever letting Laurel know she’d been adopted. But he couldn’t. Not for Anne, even though he was finding it harder and harder to hate her, but for Laurel. She would want the same thing Anne did. Laurel would want more.
He looked down at his daughter. She was talking to another girl her age and they were pointing at the skaters. As if she sensed his gaze, she looked up, smiled and then waved at him. He waved in return. He couldn’t refuse her what she needed simply because he was afraid of losing her. But by God, he wanted to.
“I’ll let Laurel call you,” he said slowly, not looking at her. “I would appreciate it, however, if you didn’t initiate the calls or talk about a visit. I believe it should be Laurel’s decision.”
“Yes, of course.” Anne smiled brilliantly. Her pale blue eyes practically glowed with happiness. She tilted her head. “Why are you being so accommodating?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I think so.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Oh. I get it. You’re hoping that by giving Laurel what she wants, she’ll get tired of the whole thing. By taking away the forbidden, you eliminate one of the attractions.”
“Maybe.”
Her smile faded, and with it the light in her eyes. “You could be right.”
“Look, Anne, don’t take this personally.”
“Hard to take it any other way.” She shook her head. “Jake, I know you don’t like me very much. I understand that. I even understand what you’re doing and why. If Laurel was my daughter—” She stared at him for a second. “If I had raised Laurel, I’d probably be doing the same thing. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
It was a victory of sorts, and he could afford to be generous. “This isn’t about you, Anne,” he said.
“But if you had your way, I’d disappear from her life, never to be heard from again?”
He looked at her. “Do you want me to lie?”
“That answers the question.”
“I guess it does. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve changed my opinion some.”
Her delicate brows raised slightly. “For the better, I assume. You could hardly think worse of me.”
Now it was his turn to feel a little uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. “Maybe if you’d robbed that bank.”
“Right.” She held out her hand. “Truce?”
“Truce.” He reached out and engulfed her small fingers in his.
Immediately electricity shot up his arm, through his chest and down into his groin. He wanted to jerk his hand back, but that would mean admitting she affected him. Yeah, right, as if he was supposed to ignore the practically visible sparks flying between them.
Her smile faltered, then faded altogether. They stared at each other. Awareness flashed between them, and a growing horror that they were both experiencing the same physical reaction. He released her hand. She pulled her arm close to her chest and massaged her fingers as if they’d been burned.
This wasn’t happening, he told himself. It couldn’t be. Not with Anne Baker. Ellen had been gone two years. In all the time he’d been alone, hell in all the time he’d been married, he’d never felt like this with anyone. Never. Not even with Ellen.
“Jake, I—”
“Don’t say a damn thing,” he commanded. He turned until he was facing straight ahead and rested his elbows on his knees. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t anything. Just weather, or static electricity or—
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Are you denying—?”
“Yes.” It was, he decided, an aberration of nature. He didn’t care for curvy women, he hated freckles, except for Laurel’s, and had never been attracted to a redhead. He glanced at Anne. Her hair wasn’t even red. It was a paler color.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Have it your way.”
“Can you explain it?”
“No, but at least I’m willing to admit it exists.”
Before he could answer, Laurel came up the stairs and walked over to them.
“How was the skating?” he asked, grateful for the interruption.
“Terrific.” She spun in a circle. “I wish I could do that.” When her turn was complete, she leaned against the railing and stared at him. “Dad, I’ve been thinking.”
Ever since Laurel had mentioned wanting to find her birth mother, he’d been carrying around a knot in his gut. At her casual phrase, the knot tightened a notch.
“About?”
“I’m not ready to leave.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s not even six. I thought we’d have dinner here before—”
She slowly shook her head. “I’m not ready to leave Houston.”
He shot Anne a glance, but her confused expression told him this was as much of a surprise to her. “School is starting in a few days,” he said. “We have to head back.”
“I don’t want to go back. I love you, Daddy, but I want to stay here. With Annie.”
Chapter 4
Anne told herself to close her mouth. She could feel it hanging open. No doubt she looked as shocked as she felt. She couldn’t move or speak. Good thing, because the malevolence in Jake’s gaze was enough to send her running for cover. Laurel wanted to stay with her?
“Please don’t be mad,” Laurel said to her father and twisted her hands together.
“I’m not.” The anger faded from his expression, leaving behind intense pain, then he blinked and there were no emotions at all. “What brought this on?”
“I just met Annie, and now we’re going to leave.” Laurel gave her a smile that quivered a little at the corners. “I know you have to go back because of the ranch and all, but I could stay. I could go to school here. I know you didn’t like my friends back home, but I’d be getting new ones here. Just for a little while, Daddy. Just so I can spend some time with Annie.” She spoke quickly as if she could convince her father by the volume and speed of her words.
Anne stared down at the pile of packages, then at the people walking by, and finally at Jake. She waited but he never jumped up and accused her of having planned this with his daughter. She was grateful for that. Laurel wanted to stay with her. She had to bite down hard on her lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Her daughter wanted to stay with her. It was a dream come true. Better than a dream because it was actually happening.
She glanced over at Jake and saw he was leaning back on the bench as if everything was fine. Her gaze dropped to his lap where his hands rested on his worn jeans. His fis
ts were clenched so tightly, she thought his skin might split. Confusion, hurt and a desperate need radiated out from him. She could feel his emotions pounding against her like waves against the shore. Suddenly her own lighthearted joy began to fade. What would Laurel’s staying do to Jake?
“Anne has a full-time job,” he said, his voice low and controlled.
Work. Anne shook her head. She hadn’t thought about that.
“So do you,” Laurel said. She shifted until her feet were spread, then placed her hands on her hips. “Da-ad,” she said, drawing the word out to two syllables. “I’m old enough to stay on my own until Annie gets home from work. I’ve done it before.”
“It’s more than just child care,” Jake said. He ignored the way his daughter huffed at the phrase. “She probably goes to her office early and stays late. Who’s going to take you to school? Cook your dinner? Help you with homework? What about your horse?”
What about me? He didn’t ask that question, but Anne heard it all the same. What about him? What about her taking in a thirteen-year-old who she knew nothing about? The sense of responsibility overwhelmed her. Yet even as she thought of a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea, a part of her screamed Yes, I want the chance to get to know my daughter.
“Your father is right,” Anne said, speaking for the first time since Laurel’s announcement. “There are a lot of practical considerations.”
“You have a spare bedroom,” Laurel said. “I know. I checked when we were at your place for dinner.” She looked pleadingly at Anne. “Don’t you want me to be with you?”
“I—”
Jake cut her off. “Laurel, I’ve tried to explain why it’s not possible for you to stay with Anne Baker. We’re leaving for Colorado in the morning. End of discussion. Now finish your shopping or go up to the room. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
The cold anger in his voice made Anne want to cower back against the bench, but Laurel was unaffected. She leaned closer to her father.
“I’m not going back with you,” she said loudly. “You can’t make me.”
A couple of shoppers gave them odd looks, then hurried past.
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