Lacy held her breath. “Your mother’s coming over for dinner, remember?”
The moment was gone.
With a surge of annoyance, Connor put her down, ignoring the electrical impulses that went off through his body as hers brushed against it.
He scowled at her. “No, I don’t remember.” What the hell was she doing, taking it upon herself to throw his doors open like this?
“Yes, you do,” she insisted quietly. Firmly. “Yesterday, in the car, you said I could pick a day, and when we got home I said how about tomorrow night for dinner. You said yes. Muttered it, actually.” Mentally crossing her fingers, she watched his expression.
A vague recollection of the exchange of words came to him, though what their content was, he couldn’t have said even under oath.
Restless, he began to pace, eyeing Lacy all the while. Trying to keep his anger under control. “So you invited my mother to dinner?”
Her eyes never left him. This was what Daniel Boone must have felt like, facing down the bear in the old legend. “I thought it was a good start.”
He wasn’t going to be forced into anything. Lacy was going to have to call the woman and cancel, that was all there was to it. He glared in her direction. “Think again.”
Inside, she felt her stomach quiver, but she held her ground. This was important. For him and the baby. And for Megan. “Don’t you think forty-five years is enough time to go by without getting to know her?”
Where the hell did she get off, doing this to him? “Like you said, forty-five years have gone by. A few more days won’t matter.”
It was an excuse, and he knew it. She had to get him to admit that. “They will if they knit themselves into weeks and then years.”
He lifted a shoulder indifferently, then let it fall, not answering. He headed for the doorway. Why hadn’t he gone with his first instincts and left for the corral after he’d put Chase down? Having sought her out to tell her the baby was asleep had been a mistake he meant to rectify now.
“Cancel it,” he ordered.
Hurrying, Lacy swerved around him and reached the doorway before Connor did. She placed her small body in his way. “I’ve never thought of you as being a coward before.”
Her words rankled him, and anger smoldered within him, threatening to spill out. “What are you talking about? I’m not a coward.”
There were many definitions of the word. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him. “Then what do you call avoiding seeing your mother?”
He didn’t care for pity, didn’t give it and certainly didn’t accept it. He resented that she felt she had to offer it. “Enjoying my privacy—which has gone all to hell since you moved in.”
He knew exactly how to hit her where it would hurt the most. Lacy raised her chin, but he saw the pain that had sprung up in her eyes. She couldn’t fool him.
“I can move out.” With that, she turned on her heel to walk out.
Connor caught a sucker punch right to the gut as guilt slammed into him with the force of a runaway freight train. He grabbed her hand before she could make good her exit. Though they’d been born of frustration, he’d regretted the words the second he’d spoken them.
“Lacy, I’m sorry.”
Debating whether or not to pull her hand out of his grasp and continue walking, Lacy blew out a breath, then turned to look at him. It served no purpose to hold on to her hurt and anger. Nothing productive would come of it. Besides, she didn’t like feeling this way, as if there was a grudge between them.
“Apology accepted.” A smile began to take root, working its way slowly over raw terrain. “So you promise you won’t duck out on me tonight?” She knew he was more than capable of it.
He sighed. She was one step ahead of him. “I promise I won’t duck out on you tonight. Why do you care so much about her?”
He still had trouble calling Megan his mother, didn’t know if he could ever really manage it and not feel as if he was choking on the words. In his mind, the term had become synonymous with deception.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, silently comforting the agitation she knew existed beneath his steely exterior.
“Because I understand what she must have gone through, losing a baby. And what she must be going through to have discovered that her lost baby is now a strapping forty-five-year-old man who was kept from her all these years.” Her eyes eloquently pleaded for him to open up his heart at least this much. It didn’t matter that Megan had seven other children or that Connor was an adult, not a child. They needed each other. “She wants to make up for some of that lost time.
“But most of all, I care about you—how this affects you,” Lacy added, knowing she’d let too much out. She didn’t want him backing away, afraid that she might have ideas about the two of them. She didn’t. Any ideas that might exist were buried in her pillow, along with her tears. “You’re Chase’s father, and he’s going to take a lot of his cues from you.”
Connor frowned. He hardly thought of himself as a role model. “He’d be better off not doing that.”
Did he think he had to be a plaster saint for his son to look up to him? Lacy wondered. His flaws were what made him human. And lovable. She hadn’t fallen in love with a cast-iron hero. She loved a man. But Lacy knew that argument wouldn’t work. So, resignedly, she murmured, “Your opinion. Not mine.”
He saw it. Saw the flash of love in her eyes. Saw the look that had undone him in the first place, cutting through his haze of alcohol and self-pity that night his mother had died. He still was lucid enough then to have wanted her. Her softness, her strength. Her love.
It all came barreling back. “Damn it, Lacy, if you had an ounce of sense in you…”
Something warm cloaked itself over her shoulders, drawing her to him. She raised her eyes to his, and her heart began to hammer erratically. “I’d what? If I had an ounce of sense in me, I’d what?”
He was going to say flee, but he never managed to get around to forming the single word.
Instead, in one swift movement, Connor pulled her into his arms and sealed his mouth to hers. The way he’d wanted to all this time. All these days and long, endless nights when he’d lain in bed, aware that she was close by. Just out of reach.
Always out of reach.
If he’d had any strength of character, he would have let her continue to be out of reach. But he didn’t, not when it came to Lacy.
What he had was a deep-seated hunger for all the things she was, all the things she brought to him so selflessly.
Electricity zipped through Lacy’s veins the instant his lips came down on hers. It had nothing to do with the dry, cracking air and everything to do with the man who knew how to make her heart sing without ever having heard the melody himself.
She knew he didn’t love her, that kissing her until she was practically mindless was just feeding some physical need he was trying to tame, but she didn’t care. Because kissing him fed something so much greater for her.
She needed this.
Despite her newfound bravado and the backbone she had managed to grow so late in her young life, Lacy needed the feel of Connor’s strong arms around her, the press of his hard body against her. The taste of his lips as they sapped every ounce of energy out of her.
Her mind spun, drunk with the moment, with the man. Savoring both because she knew how rare this moment was.
How was it that each time he kissed her, he only wanted more? That rather than becoming immune, he found himself more addicted to her and all the things she seemed to be? He felt like someone with no willpower, giving in to a decadent pleasure he’d sworn off. A pleasure that would do harm not only to him, but to her.
He tried to focus on that, on what he owed the mother of his son.
With almost superhuman effort, Connor drew back, taking the arms that had wrapped themselves around his neck and disentangling them. He allowed himself a moment to look into her eyes as he held her hands in his.
“All right, Lacy,
you’ve won. Have the dinner.”
Her heart was slamming against her rib cage so hard, she wasn’t sure if she would ever draw breath rhythmically again. How could she be so affected when he was just the opposite—cool and removed?
Because only one of them was in love here, she reminded herself. And it wasn’t him.
She’d known that before the kiss and would know that long after this moment was history. Squaring her shoulders, she made the best of it. The reluctant host had just surrendered.
“With you?” she prodded, cocking her head as she eyed him.
Why did he want to kiss her again? He’d just satisfied that impulse, so why was it hounding him again as if he were a man fresh off a fast, dying for that first morsel of food?
Because he hadn’t satisfied the impulse, he’d only tantalized it, he told himself. He knew his only salvation was to concentrate on the dinner and not the woman.
“Yes, with me. What time is this all happening?” Not that timing mattered, he thought. He had nothing to escape to this evening.
Time was something she hadn’t specified yet. “Your mother said she could be here any time after six. Since we usually have dinner at seven, I thought—” Lacy held her breath, waiting for him to make an excuse.
“Seven’ll be fine.”
His easy acceptance was unexpected, and she smiled at him, hoping to erase that stoic expression from his face. He looked as if he had just agreed to the time of his execution and was determined to meet it without showing any emotion whatsoever.
“It’ll be all right, Connor,” she assured him softly.
“Yeah. Whatever.” He shrugged. Afraid he might take her into his arms again, he shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I came to tell you I’m going to be down at the stables for a while. They’re bringing in the new mares I bought at auction last week.”
She thought that after he woke up from his nap, she might take Chase to the corral with her. “Need any company?”
“No.” He began to walk out of the room, then stopped and retraced his steps to the ladder. He folded the two sides together and then picked it up. Holding it in exactly the center, he managed to balance the ends as he began to carry it out.
She watched his progress, following from behind. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t get the urge to become airborne again.” That was all he said as he left.
She knew she should have been annoyed, but all she could do was smile.
CHAPTER TEN
“THIS IS WONDERFUL, Lacy. I knew you were a good cook from my meals at the diner, but you’ve surpassed yourself tonight.” It wasn’t her habit to eat much, but the roast pork loin had been so good, Megan found she couldn’t resist a second serving.
Wiping off the applesauce that Chase insisted on wearing instead of eating, Lacy savored the compliment. Praise was something she never took for granted. “Well, you’re welcome to come here anytime you like for the meal of your choice—breakfast, lunch or dinner.”
Though she wasn’t looking in his direction, Lacy could feel Connor’s eyes on her, heated by the invitation she had extended to his mother without bothering to consult him. She had a feeling that one way or another, whether he railed or gave her the silent treatment, she was going to pay for trespassing into his territory. But there hadn’t been any way to throw the ball into his court without an awkward pause.
She glanced at him and saw that he didn’t exactly look pleased.
Too bad. You’ve got a family, get used to it. And be damn grateful that you’re one of the lucky ones.
“Maybe I will, at that.” Megan’s eyes shifted to her son. She hesitated slightly. “Provided I wouldn’t be intruding.”
She knew, he thought. Megan Maitland knew how hard this was for him. How difficult it was turning out to be to put his house, so to speak, in order and get accustomed to a completely new set of tenants.
“No,” he finally said, albeit slowly, “you wouldn’t be intruding.”
It would take more than lip service to convince her. Megan didn’t want to be treated like a guest, she wanted to find a way to become part of all this.
“So.” She set down her napkin, looking at Lacy, who was wiping Chase’s sticky fingers. “What can I do to help? Dishes? Entertain this fine young man?” She made no effort to hide her eagerness to pitch in.
“I can entertain myself,” Connor replied quietly.
Exchanging glances with Lacy, Megan failed to keep the corners of her mouth from rising in amusement. “I was talking about Chase.”
Connor muttered something unintelligible and looked away. Megan’s smile deepened.
“The dishwasher can do the dishes,” Lacy assured her, rising. She gathered the three dinner plates, piling one on the other and placing the flatware on top. “I’ll just slip them into the machine.”
Megan started to reach for the glasses. “Well, let me help you clear them—”
But Lacy was already pushing her hands away. “No, that’s all right, really. You’re a guest.” Picking up the plates, she headed for the kitchen. “Why don’t you and Connor get further acquainted while I just pop these into the dishwater?”
There she went, orchestrating things again, Connor thought. Doing things she had no business doing. “We already are acquainted,” he informed her.
“That’s why I used the word further,” Lacy responded cheerfully over her shoulder. She looked pointedly at Connor. “Talk about Chase—that should get you started. Or even better, your horses.” Of course, Lacy realized. He loved horses. That was a subject he enjoyed talking about. “The herd is coming along quite nicely,” she confided to Megan, then disappeared into the kitchen, dishes in hand.
Megan found herself wishing she had a coffee cup to toy with. But dessert was yet to come. She shifted her eyes to her son. He looked like a soft-footed creature trying to find a comfortable way to stand on a beach covered with burning sand.
“She really is something else, isn’t she?” Megan said fondly.
“Yeah.” The answer was both dark and grudgingly surrendered.
Megan shook her head. She could almost read his thoughts. “I have a feeling you don’t mean that phrase in quite the same way I do.”
She had that right, he thought. He eyed the whiskey decanter on the hutch and wondered if it would be considered bad form to have some before dessert. He knew he could do with a shot to help him endure the evening. “You don’t live with her.”
“No, I’m not lucky enough for that.” He looked incredulous at her choice of words. “But she reminds me a great deal of Abby at that age.” Leaning forward, Megan folded her hands on the table. “I say we follow her suggestion. Tell me about the herd.”
He noticed she didn’t take up Lacy’s first suggestion, to talk about Chase. He wondered if that was by design or by chance, since he knew the little boy was of far more interest to her than horses. “It’s growing.”
The strong, silent type, that was what her firstborn had turned out to be. Megan harvested each word. “Are you planning on raising breeding stock or—”
“Racehorses.”
The answer surprised her. She thought of racing in terms of taking chances. He looked like the type who liked a sure thing. “I see. Have you been interested in racing long?”
The shrug was indifferent, and his look went right through her, as if she was part of the embroidered upholstery on the back of the chair. “A while.”
She’d always been intuitive. Megan could sense what he was going through. And she ached for him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, thinking how broad and strong it was.
“Connor, I know this is probably harder for you than it is for me.” She saw a question enter his eyes and elaborated. “For me, there’s only joy. And I want you to know that I’m willing to wait however long it takes for you to become comfortable with this situation.”
Unable to sit any longer, he rose to his feet, towering over her. “How can there be on
ly joy? People deceived you. Your own father took away something that rightfully belonged to you, deprived you of your own flesh and blood—”
She’d already made her peace with that. “He thought he was doing it for the right reasons.”
He didn’t understand. “But he still did it. And you were still lied to.”
Because he was on his feet, she rose, too. “Yes, but it won’t do my heart any good to dwell on that. There’s nothing to be gained from this kind of anger, Connor. And I have you in my life now.” She wished she could hug him. Could hold him for a moment, bonding with him. But she knew he wasn’t a toucher. Clarise wouldn’t have raised him to be. “I might not have any memories of your first steps or any of the wonderful moments that mark a child’s passage from one stage to another, but you’re here now, and I’m grateful for that. Grateful for the chance to attempt to bridge the gap between us.” She didn’t want to cloud whatever time they had together with recriminations about the past.
He stood looking at her for a long moment, amazed at the sincerity of her words. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “With all my heart.”
He felt his mouth curving. “It really is a hell of a heart, you know that?”
She could feel them forming. Tears. She didn’t want to cry now. Men never understood tears, especially when those men were your own children. “All I know is that it never felt quite as full as it does now.”
It was her tone more than the look on her face that got to him. He felt something from years back rising in his chest. “You make it hard to hold back.”
“I was hoping for that.”
Giving in, he took her into his arms and hugged her. Hugged the woman who had given him life.
Megan pressed her lips together, holding back tears she knew would only make him uncomfortable again.
“Connor—” her voice was hoarse “—do you think you could find it in your own heart to someday call me Mother?” She felt him drawing back. She didn’t want this moment to end. She’d waited so long to hug her son, to hold him in her arms just once. When she’d asked her father, after the delivery, if she could hold the child he’d told her was stillborn, to say goodbye, he’d said he didn’t think it was a good idea, and she had meekly gone along, even though her heart had screamed, “No.” Now she knew why.
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