Daddy Wanted. Kate Hoffmann
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not all,” she said, a contrite expression suffusing her face. “I came here to ask a favor—a favor I probably have no right to ask.”
“Ask,” he said. “What do you need? Money? A place to stay? Some things for the baby? Whatever I can do.”
“I need a fiancé,” she said. “I need you.”
This time Ryan was taken completely off guard. His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “What?”
“My parents don’t know yet,” she said, the words tumbling out. “And I think it would be easier for them to accept if they thought I hadn’t been completely stupid. I need a fiancé, someone I can take home and introduce as the father of my baby. It won’t be a long-term job. After a few months, we’ll have a fight and then you’ll just disappear from my life. Please don’t feel any obligation. Like I said, this is my responsibility and I’m going to—”
“I’ll do it,” Ryan said softly.
“—have to deal with this sooner or later. It’s just that I come from a very strict Catholic family, and when Diego and Carmen find out they’ll—”
“I said, I’ll do it,” Ryan repeated.
The rest of her words froze in her throat and she blinked, as if she weren’t certain she’d heard him right. A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth. “You will? You’ll pretend to be my fiancé?”
“Yes,” he replied.
With a squeal of delight, Jennifer threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “¡Gracias! ¡Muchísimas gracias! Le estoy muy agradecida.”
Ryan drew back and looked down into her eyes, which were sparkling with excitement and relief. “Con mucho gusto,” he said. “You’re welcome.” Without thinking, he took her face between his palms and dropped a gentle kiss on her mouth. As soon as their lips met, he realized his mistake. But the urge to kiss her had been too much to deny and he couldn’t regret his actions.
Slowly, he pulled back, prepared to see indignation, perhaps even anger in her eyes. But her wide gaze showed only surprise—and a tiny hint of curiosity. Ryan was tempted to kiss her again, to see if she’d respond. After all, they were engaged, weren’t they? But his better judgment won out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” Jennifer interrupted, placing a finger on his lips. “It’s my fault. My family always tells me I’m too impetuous. I shouldn’t have kissed you first. I have to learn to think before I act.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “After all, that’s what got me into this trouble in the first place.”
“But that’s what attracted me to you in the first place,” Ryan teased in a feeble attempt to lighten the moment. “Your passion and fire. The way you jump into a situation without even considering the consequences. I’m usually so careful and conservative. It’s our differences that made me fall in love with you.”
“In love?”
He grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “I’m just practicing. Do I sound convincing?”
“Practicing for what?”
“For when I meet your parents,” he said, turning to pick up one of the lunch bags. He plucked out a sandwich bag filled with Oreos and handed her one. “I’m sure they’re going to wonder how we met. We should have a story worked out.”
Jennifer frowned. “I never thought that far ahead. I guess I didn’t expect you to agree to my plan.”
“See, you are too impetuous. Now, when is this meeting going to take place?”
“I’m supposed to go home to El Paso on Friday afternoon. This Saturday is my sister’s quinceañera. Her fifteenth birthday. It’s a big deal in our culture, kind of like your sweet sixteen and a debutante ball rolled into one. There’s a mass Saturday afternoon and a huge party with dancing and food on Saturday night. All the family will be there, my aunts and uncles and cousins. I figure my parents will be so distracted with the party plans, they won’t have time to focus on my news.”
“So when do we practice? We should at least get our story straight.”
“How about dinner at my house?” Jennifer suggested. “Tomorrow night. I’ll make pozole. It’s my specialty. Actually, it’s the only thing I know how to cook. It’s kind of like a thick soup made of pork and hominy.”
Ryan forced a smile. Hominy? He couldn’t say that he’d ever tasted hominy. “Sounds good. I’ll be there.”
Jennifer swung her legs to the floor and Ryan helped her to her feet, wrapping her delicate fingers in his hand. “I’ll drive you home,” he offered.
She tugged her hand from his, then shook her head. “I have my car. I’ll be fine. I just needed something in my stomach.”
“What about lunch?” Ryan asked. “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”
“Roy and Ralph need me back at the office. I’m working on a big parental abduction case and I’ve got a lot of work to do before I leave for the weekend.”
Ryan didn’t want to let her go and searched for any excuse to get her to stay. But in the end, he accompanied Jennifer to the lobby and watched as she walked out. Then he strolled back to his office, stepped inside and closed the door. A satisfied smile quirked the corners of his mouth.
Once again, Jennifer Rodriguez had barged into his life and turned it upside down. Only this time, he planned to make sure she stayed a little longer.
* * *
“MAMÁ, I promise, I’ll be there in time for Tía Yolanda’s arrival. We’re leaving right around lunchtime and we’ll be there before dinner Friday night.” She reached for the spoon and gave the pozole a stir, then bent down and adjusted the heat.
“We?” her mother asked. “Who is this we?”
Jennifer drew a deep breath, all too familiar with her mother’s nosy nature. “I’m bringing a friend home.”
“Ah, you’re bringing that sweet Elena? That girl from your building? I like her. She’s a good girl. She listens to her mother.”
“No, Mamá, not Elena. I’m bringing a…a friend. A friend who’s a…boy. A man, actually. A man—I mean, a boyfriend. I’m bringing home my boyfriend, all right?” A long silence echoed over the phone lines between El Paso and Odessa. “Mamá?”
“Who is this boy you’re bringing? What’s his name? Who are his parents?”
“He’s not a boy, Mamá. He’s a man. His name is Ryan. Ryan Madison. He’s very nice and very successful. Papi will love him.”
“Madison?”
“Yes, Mamá, Madison. Not Ruiz, not Hernandez, not Castillo. Madison, like the fourth president of our country.”
“Does he go to church?”
The doorbell rang and Jennifer glanced down at the dish towel tied around her waist. “Mamá, that’s him at the door. I’m cooking dinner for us tonight. You can interrogate him on his religious beliefs when we get there.”
“Well, I’ll tell your Papi that he isn’t in danger of losing his daughter,” Carmen said.
“And why is that?”
“Because once this man tastes your cooking, he won’t be back.”
“Goodbye, Mamá. I’ll see you on Friday evening. We’ll see you.” She dropped the phone in the cradle, then hurried over to the table and adjusted the colorful hand-painted Mexican stoneware on the bright tablecloth. She reached for the matches to light the candles, then decided candles might not send the right message.
After all, this agreement they had was strictly