AFTERSHOCK

by Jill Shalvis

  Except for maybe Amber's disappearance afterward.

  Then he remembered, he was standing there, holding his daughter—his daughter!—and that Amber had kept her from him.

  And just like that, the moment was gone.

  With a strange sense of regret, Dax turned back to the baby and Amber left him alone, without a clue as to what she was thinking.

  Nothing new.

  Taylor blew him a bubble, and Dax had to let out a laugh. "I don't think she's nearly as charmed with me as you are, sweetheart."

  Taylor just drooled.

  * * *

  Taylor slept peacefully, oblivious to the tension around her, her little butt sticking straight up in the air, her fist stuffed in her mouth.

  Dax watched her, actually feeling his heart contract. Just looking at her hurt.

  It hurt to look at her mother too, he discovered, as he came down the stairs and met Amber's deep, dark, impenetrable gaze.

  "Let's get this over with," she said calmly, only her eyes giving away her nerves. "What do you want?"

  "Want?" He laughed incredulously. "That's an interesting question."

  "Do you have an answer?"

  "How about you marry me?"

  Her composure slipped on that one, but she regained it quickly enough. "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Yes or no, Amber."

  "It's simply not possible."

  "Sure it is. You just say, 'I do.'"

  She stared at him, and incredibly, he found himself wishing she'd come to him months ago. He would have been so thrilled to see her. He would have drawn her close for a hug and probably never let her go.

  But marriage? His stomach cramped at the thought. Yet how else to resolve this? He hated the thought of Taylor feeling illegitimate. Hated the thought of being separated from her after he'd just discovered her. "If we were married, then neither of us would have to be away from Taylor. Seems logical to me."

  She gave a short, amazed laugh. "Logical."

  "More than the alternative anyway. I just found out I have a daughter, Amber. I can't turn my back on her. Or, for some reason, you."

  "I'm not an obligation."

  "No," he said softly, thinking of the life-altering experience they'd shared. "You're not."

  "Dax…"

  Again, that thing shimmered between them. Heat. Passion. Need. But it annoyed him, and if he was truthful, it also scared him. "Look, it's simple. Yes or no."

  "You're serious," she breathed, then she shook her head. "No." Her shoulders straightened. "I won't marry for anything less than…" She looked down at her hands, which were tightly clenched. She opened them, let them fall to her sides. "I am not going to marry a stranger."

  "We stopped being strangers the day of the quake, when we spent hours in each other's arms, terrified, waiting to die."

  "I don't usually act like that. I never act like that."

  Dax thought it was a shame, but she didn't relent and he let out a sound of frustration. "Look, we're parents. Together. We can't be strangers, even if we wanted to be."

  "The answer is still no."

  "Fine. You don't want to get married." He wouldn't admit his disappointment because he couldn't believe he felt it in the first place. But neither could he ignore the feeling that, despite her calm control, she was frightened of him.

  Much as he wanted to hold onto his anger and resentment, it was hard in the face of that.

  "I intend to be a father. A good one. I want my daughter. Just as you do. We're adults. We can share."

  She nearly sagged with what could only be described as profound relief. "You want to share her?"

  For some reason that made him mad all over again. Dammit, he wasn't the one who should have to prove his trustworthiness! "Hell, yes, I want to share."

  "You're not going to fight for custody?"

  "Do I need to?"

  His tightly spoken words stabbed through Amber. He stood there looking so certain, so fierce. She hadn't expected this, hadn't expected him to actually want Taylor as much as she did.

  But she'd been in business a long time, and what she hadn't learned there, she'd learned from her father. Bottom line, she knew how to win a deal. Start out asking for the moon. Take all if you can. Settle for less only if you have to. "I want Taylor with me."

  "Sure." He nodded agreeably. Even sent her a smile that could steal the breath from a nun. "Half the time."

  Her stomach twisted. "But—"

  "Stop," he said firmly, in that voice of rough velvet. Closing the distance between them, he touched her arms, slid his big, warm hands over her skin. Immediately, heat flooded her. Her body remembered his touch vividly, had craved it nearly every night since that time she'd first experienced it. The sensation of being this close to him again was so overpowering, she had to close her eyes for a moment, or reveal everything she felt.

  "Look at me."

  Shocked at the command, she did.

  "I understand you think we're strangers," he said. "And there's a real fear in that. I'm not going to kid you. This isn't going to be easy, we're going to have to work had. Together."

  Amber tried not to panic at the thought of what getting to know him would entail. Intimacy—and she wasn't thinking of sex, but the other aspects—all of which terrified her.

  With surprising gentleness, he slid his fingers up and down her arms. "I have the feeling you think I'm out to hurt you, or trick you. I'm not into games, Amber. You've been hurt before, maybe so much so that you feel you can't trust me…" He paused, studying her when she was unable to maintain eye contact.

  "I see," he said quietly. He spoke huskily, as if he cared, and it hurt to hear it because she knew all too well how little she deserved his kindness.

  "I'm not like him," he told her, his hands still on her. "The ex-fiancé, or whoever hurt you."

  He remembered. She couldn't believe he remembered so much about her.

  "I'm not trying to frighten you, or threaten. I'm not going to bully you. But Amber—" He lifted her chin. "That baby is mine, and I plan on being a damn good father. We can do this and make it work. Together. It would be good. But it's together. That's the key."

  God, that voice. It brought her back to the terrifying magical time she spent with him, a time she could never forget because she'd felt so safe and warm and … wanted.

  Unbelievably, she felt wanted now.

  "It has to have been hard to do this all alone," he murmured. "She's a little handful. You must be exhausted. Wouldn't some help be nice? From someone with as big a stake as you?"

  Amber felt a tiny seed of long-dead hope take root. Was it possible he could forgive her? That maybe he could want her as much as he wanted Taylor? That he could grow to love and care for her as well as Taylor, the real her, the way no one else ever had?

  She allowed herself to think about it. To consider it. To dream.

  "We'll make up a schedule," he said, dropping his hands and stepping back. "That's the easiest way, unless you have a better idea."

  "A schedule?"

  "It's the civil servant in me." He flashed a surprisingly self-deprecating smile. "I like routine."

  "I don't understand."

  "To divide Taylor between us so there's no problem."

  "Divide her," she repeated inanely, her stomach dropping to the ground.

  "I don't plan on being a weekend dad, Amber. I'm willing to share, but we do it equally."

  Well what did she expect? She'd turned down his marriage proposal. But still, the hope within her died a cruel death. He wanted Taylor, not her mother. Amber lifted her chin, because no matter what he said, she could depend on no one, no one but herself. "Fine. We share."

  "Equally."

  Oh, God. She was actually going to have to do this, give him Taylor. Her eyes burned, threatened to flood. "I said fine."

  "Good."

  She needed him gone. "You can start tomorrow. Bring your schedule if you must, but for now, for today, she's mine alone. I don't want to
share my day."

  Dammit, he looked hurt again. "It doesn't have to be so cut-and-dried."

  "Yes, it does."

  "Why?"

  Because she knew nothing else. "All we're sharing is Taylor. There's nothing else to worry about. Absolutely nothing."

  "Are you talking about our attraction?"

  "There is no attraction. None. None at all."

  His eyes narrowed. "Who are you trying to convince?"

  "I'm already convinced."

  He took a step toward her and she fought against instinct and stood still.

  "So you look at me and feel nothing?" he wondered aloud.

  When he took another step, she nearly bolted. Sheer willpower held her there. "That's right."

  "You don't remember what happened between us? Hell, what exploded between us?"

  "This isn't about us—" she stuttered silent when he touched her. "And it's sure not about sex."

  "Oh, yes, it is." His voice had lowered, which for some reason made her tummy tingle, but she could ignore that. What she couldn't ignore was the look in his eyes, the lingering hurt mixed in with a good amount of pride and scorching intensity.

  "It's not about what I feel," she insisted. "Besides, you can't possibly feel something for me, after what I've done." Her voice was a mere whisper as renewed shame crept up her spine. "I kept her from you, remember?"

  "I remember." He touched her face and her eyes nearly closed in pleasure. "You still have to tell me you feel nothing for me," he reminded her.

  "I—" She hesitated and saw his eyes flare with triumph. "I don't have to tell you anything." She stood back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Goodbye, Dax."

  He stared at her. After a moment, he shook his head and went to the door. "I'll come for Taylor in the morning."

  He was leaving. She'd chased him away. Relief, she should feel relief.

  She didn't.

  And then she was alone, again. Always alone.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  They settled into a pattern, splitting Taylor between the two of them. Dax would have her on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and every other weekend.

  It might have been a perfect arrangement, for any other man.

  But as a week passed, and then another, Dax realized it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. He wanted more, he wanted it all.

  How did other single fathers do it, share their children with their exes? He didn't know.

  Even worse, he actually found himself forgiving Amber. Or if not forgiving completely, at least understanding her. He didn't like it.

  Thanks to the luck of his schedule, he'd managed to work only on the days Amber had Taylor. But two weeks after he learned he had a daughter, both work and the baby came on the same day.

  It was an experience, to say the least. His family had fallen in love with Taylor, and any of them would have dropped everything to baby-sit, but he wasn't ready to give her up yet.

  So baby in tow, he went to his office, confident he could handle it.

  Taylor started out the workday fast asleep in her carrier, and everything seemed great. The guys in his office kept poking their heads in to coo over her and Dax kept shooing them out so they wouldn't wake her. But when Taylor's morning nap was over, so was his day.

  She cried while he was on the phone to the mayor. She threw up on one of his investigative reports. Then her diaper leaked all over his shirt, causing people to wrinkle their noses when they came too close to him. After a noisy fit over having to drink a bottle with a nipple that infuriated her, Taylor finally, finally, blessedly fell back asleep.

  By that time, Dax was so exhausted, he fell asleep, too, face down on his desk.

  And awoke to his daughter's cries. Picking her up, he pressed her close and expected her to stop crying, as she always did.

  No go. In fact, she worked herself up to a furious red, screaming, mass of rage. Dax tried everything; singing like an idiot, dancing like a bigger idiot, and finally begging. Nothing worked, though it amused the staff members who gathered in his doorway to watch.

  Taylor was having none of it. Finally, when her screams threatened to bring down the house, he called Amber.

  "I've done something to her," he said over Taylor's howl. "I—"

  "I'll be right there."

  Dax paced while he waited, holding a sobbing Taylor. When Amber finally appeared, he could have kissed her. "What have I done to her?"

  Amber shook her head and took the baby.

  Immediately, the baby hiccupped and stopped crying.

  The silence was deafening.

  Amber continued to sooth her with a wordless murmur, patting her gently on the back. While Dax stared in amazement, Taylor started making loud, smacking noises with her lips, her little hands fisted in Amber's blouse.

  She sounded like a starving kitten.

  "She can't be hungry," he said in disbelief. "I gave her a bottle. She refused to even look at it."

  "Well…" Amber looked everywhere but at him. "The bottle isn't what she wants."

  "She doesn't want— Oh. Oh," he said, understanding finally dawning. "She wants breast milk." He laughed, the relief so overwhelming he could hardly stand. "But she's taken formula from me before."

  "I told you, she's a bit fickle."

  He grinned, now that he could breathe again. "Stubborn as hell, you mean. Gee, I guess she got that from both sides, huh? Here…" Leading Amber to a chair, he backed up a few steps and waited for her to satisfy his obviously starving daughter.

  Amber just looked at him.

  Taylor, frustrated, turned even redder in the face and let loose with her piercing cries.

  "Hurry!" Lord, how could such a small, adorable bundle of baby make so much noise? "Damn, she's got a set of lungs on her."

  Amber undid her blouse, then hesitated.

  Dax had been staring at Taylor's mottled face, but when Amber didn't make a move, he lifted his gaze.

  It caught on the strip of creamy skin she'd revealed from throat to belly. Just like that, his body temperature rose ten degrees.

  "I can't do this while you watch, Dax."

  It didn't matter if she breast-fed in front of him. Not when he had a good imagination, and it was off and racing now. It didn't take much to picture her peeling the material away from her flesh, exposing one softly rounded breast. The nipple would pucker and tighten, and when Taylor pulled her mouth away, the tip would be wet and swollen.

  At the thought, he went weak in the knees. Disgusted with himself, he turned and left the office, going in search of a glass of very cold water.

  A cold shower might have been more effective.

  No matter how much he didn't want to have feelings for this woman who'd ripped him apart, he did, and that confused him. He wasn't used to being confused where women were concerned.

  He could tell himself that this deep attraction was due to Taylor, but that would be a big, fat lie. Already he loved Taylor with all his heart.

  But Amber was a separate deal entirely. He'd forgiven her, yes. But he didn't want to forget.

  * * *

  The next time Amber came to the station to pick up the baby, her face was drawn. She was even more quiet and guarded than usual. She offered Dax one unreadable glance and went directly to Taylor, who was lying on a blanket and happily chewing on her own sleeve.

  "Hey, baby," she whispered, her face lighting up with the smile Dax had never, not once, seen directed at him.

  Taylor wriggled with joy.

  "Well, you lived through it," Amber said to Dax over her shoulder.

  "What about Taylor?"

  "I wasn't concerned." She paused. "You're a good father."

  "A compliment, Amber?"

  Her spine stiffened. "No, just fact. Taylor can be a lot of work."

  "You're not saying my daughter is a handful, are you?"

  Amber turned and looked at him, lifting a brow at his teasing tone. Her gaze swept his office, ta
king in the full wastebasket, the sagging diaper bag, the baby paraphernalia scattered around the room.

  And in the corner, at Amber's feet, was the happily babbling, little handful herself.

  In her well-fitted power suit, Amber kneeled on the floor and tickled Taylor's tummy. "So how was it, sweetie? Did you have a good time?"

  Taylor responded with a big grin and some drool.

  "Should have seen her," Dax told her. "She was in high form today. Spit up on the fire chief."

  Amber's smile widened as she watched Taylor. "Did you torture your daddy today, sweetie? Did you? Tell me you did."

  What tortured Dax now was Amber herself. She wasn't a tall woman, but she had legs to die for. And with her bent over as she was, he got quite an eyeful, up to midthigh. He wondered if those sheer, silky looking stockings ended at the top of those incredible legs, like the ones she'd been wearing on the day of the earthquake.

  Oblivious, Amber leaned even closer to Taylor, nuzzling at the baby's neck. Taylor squealed in delight.

  Dax swallowed hard, because while he'd felt every inch of Amber's body that fateful day so long ago, he'd never really seen her, and he'd certainly never gotten such a great view of the most mouthwatering, perfectly rounded rear end in town.

  "She looks good," Amber said of the baby.

  "So do you." The words popped out before he could stop them, but even when Amber whirled in shock and stared at him, he smiled, refusing to take them back.

  "That was … inappropriate," she said primly.

  "No doubt. It was also the truth."

  As if realizing the suggestiveness of her position, she got up carefully, managing to keep her skirt from rising any further. No ungraceful scrambling for this woman, nope she remained cool as ice.

  "You were looking at me."

  The words were spoken evenly, yet with such surprise, Dax had to laugh. "And is that so hard to believe?"

  "Men don't usually look at me that way." She glanced away. "Never, actually."

  Odd how she could appear so strong, yet so utterly vulnerable at the same time. "Then they're blind. You're beautiful, Amber."