Who Will Father My Baby?. Donna Clayton
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She spun on the narrow heel of her skimpy little sandal. “Hi,” she said.
Her smile flashed bright as the summer sun, a direct contradiction to the steely clouds gathering overhead. Dane was struck with the oddest notion that he knew this woman.
“I’m looking for…”
The rest of her sentence trailed as she took a step toward him, recognition seeming to light her big blue eyes.
“Dane? Dane Buchanan?”
His heart jackhammered, and he wanted nothing more than to blame the long hours of hard work, or the heat from the summer day, but he’d be lying to himself if he did.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Her voice had a lilting quality that started his memories churning—magnificent memories that he’d locked away in a vault years ago.
The pale pink lacquer on her long nails stood out against the royal blue of her blouse when her palm spread-eagled against her chest. “It’s me. Lacy.”
Lacy Rivers. His mouth seemed to draw into a smile of its own volition.
The years had changed her. She had filled out in all the right places. Cut off that glorious hair of hers. She looked polished. Businesslike. With a sexy edge that would drive a man wild. Much more sophisticated than the brash young woman in his memory.
The brash, fresh-as-a-spring-breeze girl who had nearly unraveled his well-laid plans all those years ago.
The thought thundered through his brain, crushing the warm, fuzzy memories, shocking the smile right off his lips.
“Lacy Rivers,” she continued. “Please don’t say you’ve completely forgotten me.”
He took the steps slowly, doing what he could to gather his wits as he went.
All he was able to say was, “How could I forget?” He took off his hat with one hand and reached the other out to her. She took it in both of hers, and he couldn’t decide if the sweat that prickled his forehead was from the oppressive heat and humidity…or the searing intensity of her skin against his.
Dane hoped like hell it was due to the soaring temperatures.
Her nails lightly grazed the outside of his wrist and the inside of his callused palm at the same time, and something deep inside him had him wondering how the hard length of them would feel on other parts of his body; his bare back, shoulders, arms and neck.
The notion so surprised him that he choked, jerking his hand out of her grip. He coughed once, and in an attempt to cover the awkwardness of the moment, he cuffed his fist against his chest.
“You okay?” Worry clouded her gorgeous sky-blue eyes.
“Fine, fine,” he said, taking a step back in retreat. He felt an overwhelming need to put a little distance between them. So he could think. Try to make sense of these strange thoughts invading his mind.
“It’s hot out here, and I’m feeling dry. I need something to drink.” A stiff shot of whiskey was what he needed to steady this odd shock that had walloped him but good. He opened the screen door and inserted the key into the dead bolt. “Can I get you something? I’ve got lemonade. Iced tea. Beer—”
“A beer would be great.” She pulled back on the screen door, taking the weight of it off his shoulder.
He twisted to face her, and she was so…close. The blue of her eyes was dazzling. The tip of her nose was appealing. The bow of her top lip was calling his name…luring him….
He swallowed. “Actually, it may be hot out here, but it’ll be worse inside. I don’t leave the air-conditioning turned on when I’m gone through the day. It’ll take a few minutes for the house to cool off.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “In that case—” she took a backward step “—I’ll wait here in the shade of the porch.”
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
He shoved open the door and, heaving a huge sigh, made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. He plunked his hat down onto the counter and turned on the water spigot. After he worked the soap into plenty of suds, he rinsed his hands and forearms. He splashed cool water onto his face and neck, and then took a moment to simply stand in the quiet.
All that could be heard was an intermittent splat as droplets of water fell from his chin and nose. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. But the chaos of his thoughts couldn’t be held at bay for long, and curiosity had him shoving himself away from the sink. What was Lacy Rivers doing here? After all this time.
Well, he wasn’t going to discover anything while he was hiding here in the kitchen.
He dried his face and hands, and then pulled open the refrigerator door. The beer bottles felt cool against his palms. On his way back through the house, he stopped to turn up the central air. Then he pushed his way back out onto the porch.
Perfect porcelain knees. That’s what met his gaze the second he exited the house. She reclined in one of the two rocking chairs on the porch, her bare, sun-kissed legs crossed, one slender foot swinging lazily, the hem of her skirt rising just enough to offer him a tempting peek at her well-contoured thighs. The pale pink paint that coated the tips of her toes matched that on her fingernails and made her feet look delicate and sexy as hell.
Seemed as if all his eyes wanted to do was examine the cute little dimples below her kneecaps, rove over those lusciously sculpted calves, shapely ankles, narrow feet. He dragged his gaze to her face only to become enthralled by her full bottom lip, that perfect nose, her brilliant, azure eyes.
The woman was like a beautiful sorceress who had ensnared him in some sort of spell. But Dane knew the only enchantment going on here had to do with the curse of his runaway libido. It was as simple as that.
“You are finished for the day, aren’t you?” she asked. “I’d hate to think I was keeping you from your work.”
“The cattle are taken care of,” he said, twisting off the top of one bottle and offering it to her. At that moment, he was struck by a thought. “I’m sorry. I should have brought you a glass.”
She shook her head, her silky blond locks bobbing. “This is fine. Thanks.”
He continued, “There’s always some chore waiting to be done around the place. But I’ve put in enough hours. I’m all through for today.”
“Good,” she said, then glanced around her. “Nice spread you’ve got.”
“Thanks.” He lowered himself into the matching rocker, pausing long enough to take a swig of beer. The cold, yeasty brew felt marvelous rolling down his throat. “I’m half owner. My father-in-law owns the other half. We’re partners.”
“You’re married?”
“Was. Helen died some years ago.”
She murmured a compassionate response, empathy flooding her face, softening her already stunning features, and Dane thought his heart was going to jump right out of his chest.
He accepted her sympathy with a nod, unable to bring himself to reply further. That part of his life was hard to even remember, let alone talk about. The conversation sagged for a few awkward seconds.
“Those cows out there in the pasture sure are pretty,” she said.
Dane couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from deep in his chest. “I’ve never heard Black Angus described as pretty before. Strong, maybe. Healthy. But never pretty.”
She lifted the beer, pressed her soft, glistening lips to the bottle’s rim and took a drink. He couldn’t take his eyes off the spot where her mouth met the smooth brown glass. Before he realized it, she was smiling at him again.
His tongue and throat felt as arid as a dusty cow trail, and