A Dad At Last

by Marie Ferrarella

  He’d had a very vocal discussion with her about that yesterday. He’d relented about the kitchen only because he’d been afraid of a grease fire starting when she made dinner if she’d left it the way it was. He’d gone to make phone calls and been amazed at the difference when he’d returned. The woman was clearly a wonder.

  Lacy shrugged away his protest. “I was up early. Besides, cleaning gives me a feeling of renewal.”

  He laughed shortly under his breath and took another long sip of coffee. “Then this place’ll have you positively reborn.”

  Feeling somewhat useless, Connor sat on the sofa. The newly cleaned, cracked dark tan leather sighed as it accepted his weight. He had a feeling a few tears had just widened under him. For a few minutes, Connor did nothing but drink his coffee and watch Lacy. She worked tirelessly.

  And made him feel guilty.

  He started to mentally review their arrangement and found it lacking all over again. Maybe now that she’d had some time to think it over, she had changed her mind. It was worth broaching. “You know, people might talk.”

  Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Lacy paused to look at him, surprised at the sentence fragment that seemed to come out of nowhere. He’d been so quiet, if he’d been anyone other than Connor, she would have forgotten he was there.

  “About?”

  Why was she making him repeat himself? She knew damn well what he was referring to. “About the fact that you’re a young woman, living in a man’s house. The father of your child’s house and, well…” Delicately, for her sake, he trailed off.

  Getting on her knees, she started working on another section of the fireplace. It was really coming around, she congratulated herself. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of Connor.

  But Connor, she reminded herself, was a lost cause. “Since when do you care what people say?”

  “I don’t.” He never had, never would. But he wasn’t thinking of himself right now. “But I thought you might.” Their eyes met and held for a moment. “That it might bother you because what they say could someday reach Chase.”

  With any luck, she would raise her son to have thicker skin than she’d had. Humor curved her mouth. “We’ve got a few weeks before Chase starts listening to mindless gossip.”

  He was being serious and she was making a joke out of it. Annoyed, Connor set his cup down harder than he should have on the table. The sound reverberated through the room. Chase looked at him with huge eyes before he went back to squeezing the blocks between his chubby hands.

  “Damn it, Lacy, a woman’s reputation isn’t something to be so lightly regarded, no matter what those damn magazines say about equality.” Frustrated, he dragged his hand through his hair. “Hell, when push comes to shove, men value their reputations, too.”

  Lacy wasn’t thinking about reputations. She couldn’t control what people said. She could only exercise control over herself—and pray she had some sort of influence over the ones she loved. Like Connor. “How about their hearts, Connor? Do they value their hearts?”

  Now what was she driving at? Annoyed, Connor poured himself a second cup of coffee, just as dark, just as inky as the first. “What?”

  She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Because I value mine, and when I stand before God and preacher and say those words that I’m only going to say once, it’s going to be to a man I love who loves me back, not because of what someone’s Aunt Gertie whispers to someone else’s Aunt Selma behind the canned peas display in the local grocery store.”

  Well, she’d certainly made her feelings clear, Connor thought. “Supermarket,” he corrected, a small smile curving his mouth. “They’ve got supermarkets here, not grocery stores.”

  “They’ve also got better things to do than talk about the living arrangements chosen by one better-than-average cook.”

  She was a hell of a lot better than better-than-average, but he wasn’t about to let himself get sidetracked by correcting her. There were bigger things at stake than a mere compliment.

  “I’m a Maitland now.” On his feet, restless, Connor shoved his hands into his pockets. “Like it or not, that makes my life everyone’s business.” He looked at her. “And you’re in my life, Lacy.”

  She wished she could hear an iota of happiness at the turn of events. To give him his due, he didn’t make it sound as if it was a plague, either. But she wanted more. She wanted him to want her in his life. “Only in the most cursory fashion.”

  He wanted to say something to negate her statement. To let her know—again—why he’d chosen to do what he had. And why he couldn’t let himself love her. The crucial word here was couldn’t. Because he could love her. So very easily. He could let down the barriers he’d erected around his heart and let himself love her. There was so much within her to love. The sweetness, the innocent purity that reminded him the world wasn’t all dark and forbidding. Wasn’t all shrouded in secrets for its own gain. Lacy had never wanted anything from him but his heart.

  But it was for her that he refused to let it happen. For her sake he kept himself in check. She needed someone vital, someone who could keep up with her. Someone she wouldn’t have to take care of someday while she was still young.

  “My point exactly,” he finally said. “I don’t want you tainted. But I’m still willing to go through with it, Lacy.”

  Go through with it. He made it sound like he was facing a firing squad. Didn’t he see why she couldn’t accept? Why, even when it would grant her exactly what she wanted, to be Mrs. Connor O’Hara, she couldn’t “go through with it”?

  “For the sake of my reputation,” she said quietly.

  He had the eeriest feeling that he was a man facing the calm before the storm. “For the sake of your reputation.”

  It took effort to bank down the sudden flare of anger she felt. Picking up the rag, she began cleaning again. Furiously. “Don’t trouble yourself. I can take care of my reputation just fine, thank you.”

  Maybe what was stopping Lacy from agreeing was that she thought he’d stand in her way, expect things from her. “You could still come and go as you please, if that’s what’s worrying you. As long as you’re discreet, there’s no reason—”

  She doubted if she’d ever been so insulted in her life. Did he think she’d been some kind of mindless floozy the night she made love with him? That she could just carelessly go from man to man while the son she’d borne slept peacefully at home with the man she’d created him with?

  “I think you should stop right there,” she warned him through lips that barely moved. “I wouldn’t go on if I were you. Not while I’ve got sharp tools within my reach.”

  Why was she getting so incensed? “I’m only thinking of you.”

  But not in the right way, she thought. She kept her back to him. “Do us both a favor and start thinking of yourself for a while. Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

  He was beginning to believe that she could. Connor regarded her in silence for a long moment. “Just when did you develop this independent streak?”

  She raised her eyes to his. “It was there all along. You just didn’t notice.”

  “I guess not.” Uncomfortable, he let the matter go and looked around. It was a big room. Lacy couldn’t be left to tackle it all by herself. “Anything you want me to do?”

  Yes, damn you, love me so I don’t feel like such a fool loving you.

  She shrugged indifferently. “Can’t think of a thing. Why don’t you go to your room and get properly dressed? I’ll have breakfast ready when you come back out.”

  He looked at what he was wearing. “What makes you think I’m not properly dressed?”

  “You’re wearing the same thing you were wearing yesterday. I don’t ever remember you doing that,” she said offhandedly.

  Connor shrugged. “Maybe a shower’ll make me feel more human, at that.”

  “Make it a quick one,” she warned. “The hot water runs out after about three minutes. I learned t
he hard way. My whole body turned into one large goose bump because I couldn’t rinse off fast enough.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He tried not to let the image she’d just described linger in his mind as he walked out of the room.

  He had absolutely no success.

  At the very least, he mused philosophically, come winter, this would definitely help him save on the heating bill.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SETTING a cup of coffee down, Connor settled at his desk in the room he’d taken over as his den. The sun was at his back, peering intently into the room like an odd man out kibitzing at a bridge table. Lacy had worked her magic in here. It didn’t look like the same room he’d first seen. For that matter, it didn’t look like the same house.

  In a little more than three short weeks, like a tireless whirlwind, Lacy had methodically worked her way from room to room, renovating, repairing, restoring. A new house, he thought, and a new Lacy.

  Leaning back in the newly refinished chair, he closed his eyes and let the sun warm him.

  The Lacy he remembered had been retiring, shy. Innocent. That had been part of the reason he’d felt so damned guilty the morning after he’d woken up to find her in his bed. To find that he had made love with her and that he had been her first.

  The first man in a woman’s life should be special, especially if that woman was Lacy. That left him out of the running. He was old enough to be her father, albeit, he amended with a fleeting touch of amusement, a young father, but still a father. There were twenty years separating them.

  He’d had no business being the one who’d taken away her virginity. No business at all. Even if it had been the sweetest, most memorable occasion in his life.

  She had been eager to please, he recalled. Eager to be with him and experience all the mysteries that existed between a man and a woman. But on the whole he had to admit the word that best described her was sweet.

  While still sweet, the new Lacy had a punch to her. A pizzazz the old Lacy had been missing. There was determination in her eyes and independence in her bearing. He just had to be in the same room with her to feel it.

  Connor had to admit that the new improved Lacy intrigued him as much as the old Lacy had attracted him. Maybe even more, because he liked women who held their own, women who didn’t attach themselves to a man like some sort of clinging vine.

  This Lacy was confident. She could stand on her own if she needed to. Did stand on her own, he corrected, remembering with a bittersweet pang the way she’d turned down his proposal. The old Lacy, he was certain, would have eagerly jumped on it, accepting faster than she could draw the next breath.

  In a way, he rather missed the old Lacy.

  Connor frowned. He wasn’t making any sense. With a sigh, he dragged a hand through his unruly hair.

  New or old, Lacy wasn’t his to ponder over. She couldn’t be. If she still appeared to care about him, it was because she lacked a father figure in her life. Eventually, she would get over that and realize that what she wanted was a husband, not a father. What would he do, after giving her his heart, if she walked away, a polite apology on her lips? Lacy could begin again, but he would be left with the ashes of a failed relationship and no inclination to reinvent himself.

  It was better this way.

  Better to pretend that the scent of her perfume, clinging to every damn surface in the house, didn’t infiltrate his senses and drive him crazy. Better to pretend that he didn’t think of her at the oddest times of the day. Yesterday, it had happened while he’d been at the horse auction.

  Horses had always been his passion, and he wanted to make this new ranch work—as only a man who was suddenly desperate to emerge in his own light wanted something to work. He might now be part of the Maitland dynasty, but he was his own man. And he needed to make his own success, not just sail along on the coattails of relatives he hadn’t even known he had.

  But still, in the middle of a heated bidding war, he’d suddenly envisioned the way she’d looked early one morning when he’d happened upon her unexpectedly, the sun filtering through the almost gauze-like cotton blouse she’d had on, giving him more than an eyeful of the firm, supple body beneath. Their night of lovemaking came barreling down the runway of his mind back to him.

  He’d lost the horse to another bidder. And had sacrificed his self-respect. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d always had more control over his thoughts than that.

  Connor looked at the pen on his desk. He hadn’t even picked it up. He’d risen early with the intention of getting through the ponderous paperwork that was beginning to pile up on his desk, but he couldn’t seem to get his head together.

  The baby was crying again. Connor’s frown deepened. It seemed to him that Chase had been doing a lot of crying since last night. Lacy hadn’t been down to breakfast when he’d walked into the kitchen, something that struck him as odd. She’d been up before him every morning since they’d entered this arrangement.

  He wondered if something was wrong.

  For one thing, Lacy didn’t let Chase cry. She would stop whatever she was doing and pick the baby up when he seemed upset or uncomfortable.

  The crying became louder.

  Something had to be wrong. Connor pushed his chair back, stood and walked into the hall. A hall that was well lit instead of being obscured in semidarkness the way it had been when he’d bought the place. One of the first things Lacy had done was insist that he get ceiling light fixtures. The next thing he knew, he had light fixtures on the floor and his half brother Jake on a ladder, installing the new lights for him. Jake had grinned at him and said his past work with the FBI had taught him a thing or two about wiring.

  Connor made his way down the hall, following the sound of Chase’s cries. It wasn’t easy getting used to that, to having people volunteering their services, poking themselves into his life when he hadn’t asked them to. Not that he ever would have. It wasn’t his way. The background he’d had was one of reserve. You didn’t ask for help. You did it yourself or it didn’t get done. This family network was going to take a hell of a lot of getting used to.

  The door to the room Lacy shared with Chase was open. Her latest undertaking, the bedroom, was a work in progress with tools, fabric and things he wouldn’t even attempt to identify scattered on the floor.

  Connor picked his way slowly, not wanting to step on anything. Baby in her arms, Lacy seemed oblivious to his presence. Wearing paint-splattered jeans and the baggy T-shirt he’d gotten used to seeing her in, she had the look of someone who hadn’t slept in the last twenty-four hours.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her head jerked in his direction. “Oh, Connor, sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m sorry if Chase disturbed you.”

  The apology irritated him. Did she think he was some kind of heartless ogre, there to complain about a baby’s cries when it was so obvious that Chase was distressed? But because she looked tired, Connor refrained from saying anything, shrugging away her words instead.

  “I was just going over bills. I could stand a little disturbing.” He came closer to her, looking at Chase. Still wearing his bright blue sleeper with the feet, the little boy seemed as oblivious to him as his mother had been. “What’s wrong with him?”

  She wondered if that was an impatient question because Chase had disturbed him, or if it was an intuitive one because he sensed something was wrong with the little boy. Looking at Connor, she didn’t see the mark of impatience on his face and gave him the benefit of the doubt. It was a habit.

  Lacy passed her hand over the small forehead, brushing back the damp hair. “He’s running a little fever and—”

  “A fever?” Connor looked from her to the baby. Somewhere inside him, a small alarm went off. “Is that normal?”

  “Only when you’re sick,” she said wearily. “I think he picked up a cold.”

  The words came out before he could think better of them. “Small wonder, the way you drag him around w
ith you wherever you go.” She was always driving off to one place or another, looking for more things for the house. Chase went with her, strapped into his car seat.

  Exhausted, with more than a touch of guilt, Lacy felt her temper flare. “Coddling him would only be worse.” She pressed her lips together, knowing that had come out too sharply. She softened her voice. “He has to build up an immunity.”

  He wasn’t about to debate this with her. What mattered now was Chase. “How long has he been like this?”

  Despite the situation, she smiled. Seeing Connor reduced to a worried parent helped her deal with her growing concerns about Chase’s condition.

  “Not long. Just since late yesterday afternoon.” She tried to placate both his worries and her own. “You have to remember that a baby’s temperature can go up and down a great deal even during the course of a single day.”

  He had absolutely no idea about temperatures or anything else that went with raising a child. The fact that he didn’t made Connor feel inadequate. It was all Greek to him.

  “How do you know that?”

  As she talked, she continued to walk the floor, rubbing Chase’s back, hoping the constant motion would soothe him. “Tons and tons of baby-care books I’ve read. The second I found out I was pregnant, I began reading everything I could find on the subject of babies.”

  After the initial shock and fear had settled into something manageable and she’d made peace with what was happening in her life, Lacy had been determined not to float ignorantly along through this adventure called motherhood. Nor did she want to be one of those alarmist mothers who ran to the doctor at the slightest sign of a problem, only to be embarrassed because she’d overreacted.

  Connor might know nothing about raising children, but he was pretty attuned to the sounds of distress. He’d always known when one of his horses needed attention, and a baby wasn’t all that different from a colt. Coming around behind her, Connor peered at the small, flushed face nestled against Lacy’s shoulder.

  “He doesn’t sound as if he’s read the same books. Here, let me take him.” Not waiting for an argument, he slipped his hands around Chase’s small body and took him into his arms. The baby definitely felt warmer than Connor thought he should. He glanced at Lacy. “You look exhausted. Have you been getting any sleep lately?”