The Bachelor's Baby. Teresa Southwick
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Casey and what kind of game she was playing. But a couple of things he knew for a fact. She hadn’t lied about Jason being his son. His instincts told him that even before he saw the unmistakable resemblance. But with that first look and touch, he’d known a wave of love and protection so fierce, so powerful, it had taken his breath away.
“How did you know?” she asked a note of accusation in her voice.
“That receptionist who gave me your address told me.
“I should have guessed. Actually it was sort of a mutual decision. Because of Jason I didn’t want to work the seventy-hour week they envisioned for a potential accounting partner. And they were concerned that motherhood would dilute the energy I could give the firm.” He heard the worry mixed with bravado in her voice.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. He turned away from the window and caught the tender way she was looking at the nursing baby. His flesh and blood—his son. The thought brought him more joy than he’d ever felt in his life.
“I’m looking for another job. I’ve filed for unemployment. I’ll be fine.”
Tucker watched her rock gently back and forth. Last night he’d thought she was more beautiful than she’d been the night he’d met her. Now he understood why. Motherhood suited her. But she seemed damned determined to deny him a chance at fatherhood.
That wasn’t going to happen.
He wasn’t sure why she was so resolved to do this on her own. But he knew for a fact he wouldn’t let her get away with it. Tucker had driven around a long time before knocking on her door. He’d had a lot of time to think. An idea had come to him, and the more he thought about it, the better it sounded to him.
“What if you can’t find a job? What happens when the money runs out?”
She sighed. “I’m an intelligent woman. I’ll find a way to take care of myself and my son.”
“You haven’t said anything about family. Is there someone who can help?”
“No.” The one curtly spoken word told him a lot about what she had gone through in the past year.
Anger, at her and himself, flowed through him. “You should have tried harder to find me.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. “It’s not your problem, Tucker.”
“The hell it’s not. He’s my son.”
The baby started squirming, and she raised him to her shoulder, then gently patted his back. “I understand how you feel. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.”
Jason burped loudly and Tucker laughed. “With a little practice he could be a champion.”
Casey snorted. “I’m not sure it’s a skill that should be encouraged.” She settled him at her other breast and he nursed happily again.
“So what are your plans now?” Tucker asked. “Do you have any solid leads on a job?”
“One or two,” she answered vaguely.
“You don’t sound like a typical, enthusiastic career woman.”
“The one thing I hadn’t counted on was how hard it would be to leave my baby—” Her voice caught.
In two strides Tucker was beside her and down on one knee. “Casey, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t leave him? Don’t nurse him? Don’t cry—”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. With her hands full of baby, she couldn’t discreetly brush it away. Tucker did.
“There’s no reason to cry,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? He’s my baby, and I’ll cry if I want to.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I don’t need your permission.”
“Of course not—”
“Don’t patronize me, Tucker. I hate crying. I despise being at the mercy of my hormones. And seeing you isn’t helping, either.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but chose to believe she was feeling the same way he was. Disturbed by how strong his attraction still was even after a year.
“I’m just trying to help. I’ve got an idea—”
“I don’t need help. Especially from a man.” She sniffled. “Tucker, you’ve seen Jason. He’s happy, hearty, healthy—sturdy,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’ve played by the rules. It’s time for you to go. Happy trails and all that.”
He gritted his teeth. “Not yet.”
“Yet?” she asked suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
“You’re not the only one who plays by the rules. I’m not leaving until you hear my proposition.”
Tucker suppressed his anger at her dismissal. He needed a clear head, something he could never manage when he was mad as hell. Like now. Casey Wright had confessed, unburdened her conscience, come clean and told him about his son. Her halfhearted attempt to find him didn’t cut it, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t trust a woman who would keep secrets from him, especially something as important as the fact that he was going to be a father. If she expected him to walk out of his son’s life, she’d better think again.
“This is a proposal that you might want to seriously consider,” he repeated.
“If this is about marrying you,” she said quickly. “That’s out of the question.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
“Oh. Good, because the answer would have been no.”
“Fine. I don’t want to get married, either. But I’ve got another idea. Will you hear me out?”
She stared back at him, her delicate jaw rigid with stubbornness. Big green eyes in a pixie face, surrounded becomingly by short, jagged-cut blond hair, regarded him suspiciously. He realized he had lied when he told her she wasn’t as cute as he remembered. She was cuter.
When she took a deep breath and nodded, he knew she would listen. “I don’t think I’ll like it, but the least I can do is hear you out.”
“How do you know you won’t like it?” he asked, irritated.
“I just do. But go ahead.”
Still on one knee beside her rocking chair, he felt as if he should propose marriage to her. It was the honorable thing to do. He couldn’t. It might be noble, but it wasn’t right. Not for Casey or Jason or him. Marriage implied love and commitment that would last forever, and he didn’t believe that was possible. But he could offer her the next best thing.
“I want you and Jason to move in with me on my ranch.” He took one look at her face and added, “Temporarily. Say, three months. A month for every one I missed out on.”
“You want—” She stared at him for a moment.
Then she moved. Beneath the soft little blanket that hid his son and her breast, she squirmed as she righted the straps of her bra and shirt. She threw off the flannel covering, lifted the contented baby to her shoulder and burped him. With quick, angry movements, she arranged a small plastic chair in the crib.
“What’s that?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
This baby thing was all new to him. Everything was fascinating. Especially the feeding part, he decided, noticing the way her T-shirt molded to the soft