That One Night

by Brenda Novak

  Conner’s scowl darkened, but Delaney’s smile brightened in direct proportion. “A simple first name is fine with me. No need to be formal. I think everything’s ready. Just take a seat and enjoy.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat with us?” he asked.

  “No, not tonight.” Delaney was too nervous to eat and didn’t want to risk having the food make her sick. She wanted to feel her best when she faced Conner tonight.

  Isaiah caught her eye again. “Well, this looks mighty fancy, Delaney. I appreciate the effort that went into cooking up something so fine.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Sure hope you plan on sticking around. I mean, it isn’t every day a cowboy can find such a pretty lady to do his cookin’—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, would you sit down and eat?” Conner snapped.

  Surprised by the sudden outburst, everyone paused to look at him, but he ignored the attention, grabbed the closest bowl and began ladling carrots onto his plate as though he hadn’t said a word.

  Delaney quickly slipped out. She didn’t want to antagonize Conner before she had a chance to talk to him. She wanted him to be fair and amenable—as far as he was capable. But when she sat down in the living room to wait until she could go back to the kitchen and clean up, she soon realized that she could hear almost everything they said.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Roy asked.

  Delaney didn’t have to be in the same room to know he was talking to Conner.

  “Nothing,” Conner mumbled.

  “I was just paying the lady a compliment,” Isaiah said. “Somethin’ the matter with that?”

  “You’re too young for her,” Conner said. “Stay away.”

  From the sudden silence, Delaney guessed the others had stopped eating and were staring at Conner. Her jaw had certainly dropped.

  “What difference does it make to you?” Isaiah asked. “Having a beautiful woman in the house might turn you into a bear, but it doesn’t affect me the same way. I wouldn’t mind getting to know her a little better.”

  “You’re only twenty-two!”

  “So? Maybe I like older women.”

  “I said to stay away from her.”

  Delaney wondered if Isaiah would argue, but he immediately backed down. “Whatever,” he said, a shrug in his voice.

  The conversation lapsed. Forks clinked against plates, spoons scraped bowls and chairs occasionally squeaked, but no one spoke again until Roy and the others began to file out.

  “Thanks for dinner, Laney…Dinner was mighty tasty…See you bright and early tomorrow morning….” they murmured as they passed her.

  Delaney gave them each a polite goodbye, then ducked into the kitchen to find Conner still at the table, staring off into space. Finally, finally, they were alone.

  “Can we talk now?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Did you hear me? We’re going to have to talk sometime.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Then, maybe you can listen.”

  “I think I’ve heard about all I want to hear. Or is this when you tell me where to send my monthly check?”

  “I don’t want your money,” she said. “If money’s all you’re worried about, then relax, because as far as I’m concerned you’re released from all liability, all obligation, everything. I’ll even put it in writing. I want this baby all to myself.”

  He stood and slid the chair under the table. “Then, that’s the last thing you’re going to get,” he said softly and left.

  * * *

  DELANEY TOSSED AND TURNED for two hours before giving up on sleep. After her conversation with Conner this evening, she’d been tempted to toss her belongings in her car and head home. He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and fear that he meant exactly what he said made Delaney want to fight him.

  But common sense told her she’d be better off biding her time. Conner had a lot more resources than she did—she didn’t even have a job at the moment, other than the one he was providing—which meant he had a good chance of winning any custody suit. And some part deep inside her still clung to the memory of him as a man who could be as gentle as he was now being harsh. She remembered how he’d put her at ease in Boise by drawing her out and talking to her before making any kind of physical move, how he’d gone to great pains to make sure she enjoyed their lovemaking, how he’d seemed so disappointed when she wouldn’t stay for breakfast…. Surely, he’d get over his initial anger, and they’d be able to work something out.

  Kicking off the covers, Delaney got out of bed, pulled on her robe and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe if she had a cup of tea she’d be able to relax. But her morning sickness wouldn’t allow her to drink more than a few sips, and she ended up sitting in the living room in the dark, staring at the dying embers of the evening fire.

  To avoid the steady ticking of the clock, reminding her that she’d pay for her lack of sleep in the morning, she called Rebecca, thinking she’d hang up if Rebecca didn’t answer by the third ring. But Rebecca picked up right away, and the alert sound of her voice and the music playing in the background told Delaney she hadn’t been sleeping.

  “What are you doing up so late?” Delaney asked.

  “I just got off the phone with Buddy.”

  “How is he?”

  “Good. Said to tell you hello. We’re talking about moving up the date of our wedding.”

  “Why?” Lying down, Delaney pulled the lap blanket that was normally folded over the back of the couch around her shoulders, feeling strangely bereft at the prospect of Rebecca marrying and moving away, leaving her here with the disaster she’d created.

  “Now that you’re going to be gone most of the time, there really doesn’t seem to be any point in waiting. It’s boring here without you. And I’m eager to start my new life.”

  Delaney heard a familiar pause and knew Rebecca was smoking. “I thought you gave up cigarettes,” she said.

  “That was last week.”

  “What about smoking in the house?”

  “Just one won’t hurt anything. What’s happening with our sperm donor?”

  “Nothing. He hates me.”

  “And that’s a surprise?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you going to stay there?”

  Delaney snuggled deeper beneath the blanket, finally feeling a little sleepy. “I’m not sure. The ranch is nice, but—” she yawned “—Conner is not.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FOR THE FIRST TIME since he’d moved to the ranch, Conner thought he’d rather stay out in the freezing cold than return to the house. Delaney had been there for three days already, but he wasn’t any more comfortable having her around now than when she’d first crossed the threshold. What man could be happy living with a woman who’d used him so calculatedly? Every time he saw her, a sense of betrayal settled so deep in his bones it kept his anger in a constant simmer. The fact that he couldn’t simply tell her to stay the hell out of his life made matters even worse. In less than seven months, there’d be a child to consider—his child.

  And he wasn’t father material. He didn’t even know if he’d have a job this summer. Stephen had called again last night to say they’d signed the listing papers. Once the ranch sold, Conner didn’t know what he’d do. He wasn’t going back to Napa, though. He was finished visiting the same old haunts, finished with the shallow people he’d partied with, finished with his uncles, the family fights, the jealousy and the greed. If living out in the middle of nowhere had taught him anything, it had taught him that he liked wide open spaces.

  But having a kid would change things considerably. Kids needed money, care, supervision, a sense of belonging—

  “What’s that look for?” Roy asked, pulling his horse alongside Conner’s.

  Conner wondered how Roy could even see his face. It was after five and getting dark, and he had his cowboy hat pulled low against the wind, the collar of his
sheepskin coat turned up. “What look?”

  “The one that says the chip on your shoulder is growing bigger by the minute.”

  Conner considered the older man, then squinted at the others riding ahead of them. “Stephen called last night.”

  Roy spat at the ground. “He did? You tell him we’re designating some campsites and charging to use them?”

  Conner shook his head. “It wouldn’t have done any good. They’re planning to sell out,” he said.

  “They’re what?”

  “They’re listing the ranch for sale.”

  Roy’s mouth flattened into a short, straight line. “And you’re gonna let ’em?”

  “It’s not my decision.”

  Roy rode for several minutes without speaking. “So basically you’re giving up?” he finally said.

  The accusation in his voice irritated Conner. He clenched his jaw, knowing it didn’t take much to get a rise out of him lately. “What else can I do? It’s not my ranch.”

  “Have you ever thought about making it your ranch?”

  Conner scowled at him. “You know I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Since when has something like money ever stopped an Armstrong?”

  Conner halted Trigger. Roy slowed and turned toward him. The wind whipped at their horses’ manes, their clothes, their cold, raw faces, but Conner didn’t feel a thing. “I’m not an Armstrong,” he said, wondering what the hell Roy was getting at. Anyone who’d been around as long as Roy had heard about his father, knew where he’d come from. They knew his mother was adopted, too.

  When Conner was angry, most people slunk away rather than taking him on in a direct confrontation. Evidently that didn’t hold true for Roy. He looked Conner in the eye and even brought his horse a little closer.

  “Maybe you’re not an Armstrong,” he said. “But you remind me a lot of your grandfather all the same. And the Running Y is a mighty fine place to raise a child.” Saluting him with a hand to his hat, he started to wheel his horse around, but Conner stopped him with a question.

  “Who told you about the baby?”

  Roy grinned. “You’re not in California anymore,” he said. Then he kicked his horse into a gallop and rode on ahead to join the others.

  * * *

  IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE, really, everything that had happened since he’d arrived in Dundee, Conner thought. He’d stopped drinking. He’d stopped sleeping in late. He’d stopped wasting inordinate amounts of time and money. He’d given up fast cars and fast women. Yet it was now that he faced having an illegitimate child? Now that he faced his life’s greatest dilemma? How ironic was that?

  He probably shouldn’t be so surprised, he told himself, putting down his pencil and closing the account books he’d been double-checking for the past hour. Sure, he’d taken his share of risks, but he’d never had a woman like Delaney working against him. He kept thinking he should’ve seen disaster coming, but how? He’d been in a bar, new in town, minding his own business, even doing a little soul-searching when—wham!—she struck out of nowhere, wearing that little black number.

  If she’d been a more experienced woman, he might have suspected something. But a virgin? That part of the puzzle didn’t quite fit. Conner wanted to paint her as cold and calculating because it was easier that way—easier to maintain a firm defense, easier to plan what he was going to do about the baby without taking her into consideration. But the memory of that night hardly supported a cold and calculating Delaney, and the longer she worked for him, the harder that image was to maintain.

  Stacking the invoices that had yet to be paid on the side of his blotter, he rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes. Any sympathy he felt was because she was always sick, he decided. Any man would feel sorry for a woman who was constantly ill. Delaney spent more time in the bathroom than she did in the kitchen, and she was losing weight. Dark smudges underscored her eyes, she acted as though she could scarcely smell food without retching and she wasn’t sleeping well. He often heard her rambling about the house at night, noticed the fatigue in her face come morning. Yeah, it was only natural he’d feel a little sympathetic….

  But she’d brought this on herself, dammit!

  “Roy said your grandfather’s putting the ranch up for sale.”

  Conner’s eyes flew open to see the object of his thoughts standing in the doorway of his office, wearing a gray sweat-suit that covered her completely yet managed to make her body appear soft and inviting. It was nearly midnight. He hadn’t expected to be interrupted by anyone, least of all Delaney, whom he avoided as much as possible. Why hadn’t he heard her approach?

  A quick glance at her feet told him she was barefoot, and he felt the impulse to tell her to put on some slippers so she wouldn’t catch pneumonia and make matters worse. But he knew he had no right to say anything.

  “Is it true?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

  “Is what true?” He’d forgotten her question. She’d moved and the gentle sway of her breasts indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra. For a moment the mental image of her naked flashed into his brain and robbed him of coherent thought.

  “That you and your family are selling the ranch?”

  He cleared his throat and opened the account books again, to distract himself from the fact that, despite everything, he still found her appealing. It was easier to keep his distance when he wasn’t remembering the more intimate details of their past.

  “Yes, we are. We’ve already listed it.”

  Having satisfied her curiosity, he thought she’d leave so he could go back to convincing himself that she was cold and calculating. But she didn’t move and her gaze never faltered from his face.

  “How long do you think it’ll take to sell?”

  “No telling. It could take a month. It could take a year.”

  “And then what’s going to happen?”

  He shrugged as if the ranch didn’t mean anything to him. What good did it do to care? It was out of his hands, not his decision to make…. So you’re giving up?

  “Someone else takes over,” he said, loudly enough to drown out the echo of Roy’s words in his head.

  “And you’ll go back to California?”

  Dropping the pretense that he didn’t have time for the interruption, he linked his hands behind his head and crossed his legs in front of him. “That remains to be seen. Did you think you’d get rid of me that easily?”

  “Stop it,” she said. “I didn’t have to tell you.”

  “About the baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You did if you want any kind of financial help.”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “Well, I would’ve found out about the baby eventually,” he said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He considered her freshly scrubbed look, remembered the body those baggy sweats concealed and realized that suddenly he was having difficulty remaining angry.

  “So why’d you do it?” he asked. “Why’d you tell me?”

  “Because I feel bad about what I did. I wanted a baby and I got tired of waiting around for it, so I decided to make it happen on my own. I was wrong. But you should understand something else.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I won’t let anything come between me and this child,” she said.

  Turning, she walked out of his office, and Conner stared after her, amazed at the jumble of emotions she left in her wake. When he thought about what Delaney had done, he still felt betrayed. When he thought about the time they’d spent together, he seemed almost willing to forgive her. When he thought about the ranch and the baby and the future…

  He rubbed his temples. Who would’ve believed he could care so much?

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Conner wasn’t particularly pleased to find Rebecca instead of Delaney in the kitchen, preparing eggs, bacon and toast.

  “Where’s Delaney?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

&nbs
p; Rebecca considered him, then went back to turning the bacon that was sizzling and popping in the frying pan on the front burner.

  “Where’s Delaney?” he asked again, and she finally deigned to answer.

  “She had a doctor’s appointment.”

  He almost said “Good,” but caught himself just in time. He’d been worried about the weight loss and wondering why her doctor wasn’t doing something to help with the nausea.

  He took his usual place at the table with Roy, Grady, Ben and Isaiah, who were each cradling a cup of coffee while waiting for breakfast. “You didn’t have to fill in for her. She could’ve told me she needed the morning off.”

  Rebecca widened her eyes. “Maybe she didn’t want to ask you for anything.”

  “I can think of a few things she should’ve asked me two and a half months ago,” he grumbled under his breath.

  But Rebecca heard him. Spatula in hand, she leaned against the counter and addressed his comment, even though it wasn’t specifically directed at her. “What happened two and a half months ago was more my fault than hers.”

  Conner glanced at the others. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

  “Why not?” she countered. “It’s not like I’d be telling them anything new. It’s all over town.”

  His co-workers stared into their cups as though coffee had suddenly become very fascinating. All except Roy, who seemed to have difficulty biting back a smile.

  Conner shot him a dark look to see if that might help him regain his composure. “I don’t care what’s going around town. It’s my business.”

  “Fine. I’m just trying to tell you that I put her up to it.”

  “Great. So I have you to blame?”

  She shrugged. “You can blame me if you want. Just quit feeling so sorry for yourself. I mean, you enjoyed what happened as much as she did.”

  This time Conner was sure he heard a chuckle from Roy, and though he couldn’t quite see their faces, he had no doubt the others were smiling behind their mugs.

  Standing, he strode across the room, wrested the spatula out of Rebecca’s hand and made a great point of giving it to Roy. “Watch the food,” he said, then dragged her into the hall.