by Cait London
Kallista gripped the small greenware dolphin in her hand until it broke, falling into the cleaning sink. She’d wanted to run away from him. She’d wanted to call him out, face to-face, to tell him that he didn’t matter—but standing then in that pose, looking at her as though she was everything he wanted, Kallista’s legs went weak.
Every day Titus or Dusty had arrived with a crudely crafted paper box, fashioned with tape. Inside was a perfec orchid, resting on tissue paper, and Roman’s bold, blocked initials. Just the sight of the blooms caused Kallista’s heart and soul to weep.
He’d caught her prowling in his computer, but she didn’t want to chat with him there, or on the telephone when he called. She wanted to see his face, see how a man who said such sweet things and gave Blaylock family keepsakes to her, could then stay away one whole week, turning up with a little girl and using her as an excuse.
Orchids weren’t going to help Roman Blaylock.
Kallista inhaled unsteadily, forced a tight smile down at the girl, and pinned Roman with one glance. He had that wary, vulnerable look that curled around her heart. “We brought you something. This is my daughter—”
The little girl shoved the big flat box at Kallista, then her small hand tightly gripped Roman’s tooled leather belt. “The name is Cindi. I dot my is with hearts. Cindi Blaylock is the name. You know my dad. This is him...my dad,” she said with pride, as though showing off a new bicycle.
She eyed Kallista; Cindi’s small jaw said she’d fight to hold her own. “I don’t like sharing. He’s mine.”
Roman gently shook the girl’s thin shoulder. “We talked about this, remember? You’re special to me in one way and she’s special in another.”
“Yeah...I guess so. It’s okay...until it isn’t.” She grinned at him and then at Kallista, and back at Roman. “He’s in love with—”
“Hush.” Roman’s gaze slid slowly over Kallista’s face, taking in too much that she couldn’t shield from him. “You’ve got circles under your eyes, and you look thin.”
Who did Roman love? The girl’s mother? Kallista forced herself to speak quietly. “I’m working to make a profit for Boone’s fifty-one percent.”
“You’re a pretty good hacker. Ro...er...ah...Dad thinks you’re smart. Say, I like those black combat boots. I’m going to school here, when it starts.”
Roman’s gaze locked on the cameo at Kallista’s throat, tied by a black velvet ribbon. “I missed you,” he said finally.
She didn’t want to feel that impossible tug, that sudder lifting of her heart. Why should she want to touch him? Why should she trust him? The man offered her nothing but himself.
“Are you going to a funeral? Where did you get those neat moon earrings? Is black your favorite color? I like blue.” Cindi peered up at her, then at Roman. “You guys can kiss, you know. I’ve seen that mushy stuff before Yuck. Aren’t you going to open this box?” she asked.
Roman reached out to smooth a long strand of Kallista’s hair from her throat. His fingertip traced the velvet ribbor tied close to her throat and her pulse leaped to his touch “I thought Cindi and I would get started painting ceramics—together. What do you recommend?”
“No more dog bowls,” Cindi said, eyeing the unpainted bisque on the shelves. “The present is for you. Me and Dad did it. We ruined the first and second batch, but we did it the third time. Made a hell of a mess—”
She frowned up at Roman, who had just nudged her, and corrected carefully, “We made a big mess.”
When Kallista opened the box, four starched and ruffled doilies lay neatly inside. Cindi peered at them, touching one high ruffle with her fingertip. “Can’t believe that sugar water does that. We sat and starched Boone’s doilies. My dad said these suckers need to be under flower vases. I’m going to plant some flowers at my dad’s—at Boone’s house, just like you did when you visited him. Did you know that I stayed with Boone when I was a five-year-old kid? We played poker, but now me and Dad play cards Are those the prettiest doilies you ever saw? Boone’s mother made them. Else is making me a dress with a collar that’s crocheted from a long time ago. But I don’t know if I like dresses.”
“These are the prettiest doilies I’ve ever seen. You did a good job,” Kallista murmured, and wondered why she allowed Roman to take her hand, smoothing her fingers with his thumb.
“I’d like to try that date again,” he murmured.
“I guess you liked the orchids. Titus said you had ‘tears ashimmerin” in your eyes. I made the box. Dad says he knows someone who would like to come take care of the orchids, and of the pigeons, too. They were kids at Boone’s once, just like me. If he can get you to go on a date with him, I get to stay overnight at Else’s with Patty Blaylock...’ cause I didn’t try to run away once this week. Ro...Dad kept me too busy, right with him every minute, and I was tuckered out, like Dusty said. But this place is okay and I might stay—” At Roman’s gentle nudge, Cindi glanced up at his slight, warning frown. “Whoops.”
Her eyes widened innocently. “I got a new bike. Pink. Not blue. But it’s okay. Better than okay. Has streamers from the handgrips. Ah...I think I’ll just go look at that big bunny on the shelf.”
Alone, Kallista turned to Roman. When had she become so fragile? Where were her shields? All it took to destroy her walls were beautiful orchids. Roman walked into her shop with a little girl who was her exact youthful image, and all her determination turned to mush. “Take a note. I don’t make second mistakes.”
He spoke in the hushed tone she’d used. “You’re mad.”
“That’s an understatement, Blaylock. I don’t like broken dates, and I should have known better to trust you in the first place. I have to know about your daughter—did you love her mother?”
He searched her eyes, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Figures. You’ve claimed a long-lost daughter and you didn’t love her mother. You don’t explain anything, do you?”
“I can tell you how I feel about you. You’re a part o me and always will be.”
She backed against the counter and Roman’s hand braced at her hips, enclosing her. “Your eyes are saying things your mouth isn’t, honey,” he murmured. “I’d have come to you, if I could.”
“Why would she want to run away from you?”
“It’s an adjustment for her—”
He glanced at Cindi, who had just called to them “Hey...ah...Dad, Patty is with her mother at Mamie’ Café. Can I go see her?”
Cindi paused and shyly walked to Roman. She grippe his shirt and tugged. “You’ll be here when I get back won’t you?”
Roman solemnly turned to the little girl. “I will...unles I can talk Kallista into coming over and having a piece c pie with us.”
“You can’t talk me into anything,” Kallista said firmly distrusting herself. One look at him and she was ready t toss away her pride.
He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you. When I go, you come wit me. You can see the truck with Luka and Igor in it from Mamie’s Café. I’ll either be here, or I’ll come to the Café,” he repeated carefully. “Watch for cars when you cross th street, okay? Go down to the crosswalk and wait for th light to cross, and mind your manners. You belong here...you’re my daughter and you’re a Blaylock now, remember?”
“Come down here.” Cindi said, after a quick, war glance at Kallista.
When Roman lowered to listen to her whisper, Cind kissed his cheek. He held very still while she wrapped he arms around him for a hug, then straightened. He place his hand on her shoulder once more and gave her a gentl squeeze. His tender, wistful expression caused Kallista t shiver; his Michaela, another man’s daughter, would have been just as loved....
After the girl had hurried off, Kallista moved away from Roman to straighten the tiny unfinished picture frames on he shelf. “When are you leaving?” Roman asked quietly. Was he so anxious to have her leave, to take another woman with his body? The que
stion tore a piece of her heart away. “I never stay long in one place. But you know hat—it was in your file on me.”
“The cameo looks good on you,” he murmured, coming up behind her.
She whirled to face him. If he touched her, she’d shatter. ‘Don’t...don’t touch me. Don’t put your hands on me.”
Roman tensed, his hand poised to smooth her hair, lowered slowly. The incredible pain in his expression stunned Kallista.... Just then Lettie Coleman, the attractive blonde who was rumored to be husband-hunting and wanted Ronan or Rio, hurried into the shop. “Why, Roman, fancy neeting you here.”
Lettie hurried to him, and fluttered her lashes up at him, her hand on his forearm. “I thought you might come over onight...you and your daughter, and have supper with the girls and me. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and apple dumplings,” she offered temptingly and rubbed her fingers over Roman’s bicep. “My, you Blaylocks are fine-looking men. Those Blaylock children almost put the urge into me no become a mother again. You’ve been moldy, Roman, but they say Blaylock men get that way until they’re stirred up. You’ve been stirred up lately... and you’re fineooking.”
Roman’s gaze never left Kallista’s. “Take your hands )ff me, Lettie. I’m taken. Kallista is wearing my mother’s cameo.”
Lettie was bred of the same sturdy pioneer stock as most )f the people in the valley and she wasn’t easily dismissed.
“That’s news to me. She may be wearing that lovely old thing, but you’re not wearing a wedding ring yet, honey.”
Roman looked down at her and smiled slowly, the effect devastating. “Rio was asking about you. He likes apple dumplings.”
Lettie’s blue eyes widened. “Rio? Asking about me?”
After she hurried out of the shop in search of Rio, Roman’s hand clamped on Kallista’s wrist as she took a step away from him. “You’re not going anywhere.... I can’t explain, but what I feel for you is true. It won’t change. Come out with me tonight.”
He smiled again, that slow soft smile, and Kallista’s heart fluttered and melted into warm mush. “I thought you didn’t play games. Poor Rio.”
“‘Poor Rio’ can handle himself.” Then Roman slowly bent his head and brushed her lips with his. “You are a soft, soft woman, Kallista Bellamy. I’ll pick you up after work.”
“No one lays out my schedule. I haven’t agreed to—” Kallista stopped, shaken by the sight of Roman placing her hand on his cheek. The softness and hunger in his dark eyes terrified her. She jerked back, rubbing her palm against her thigh and yet the impression of his warmth, the bones thrusting into her care, remained.
“I’m not leaving here until you’ve given me your answer. If you keep backing away from me, you’re going to knock over that shelving.”
“I don’t want to plant flowers...or vegetables. I am not a farmer,” she managed to say as Roman’s thumb stroked her jaw.
He bent to place his lips against her skin, heating it. “Uh-huh. What’s that got to do with us?”
She touched the cameo at her throat; other women had worn it, had fought their needs and their hearts. The lovely old, soft pink and cream pendant told of love and courtship and she should return it to the Blaylock family. She traced the ornate gold rim, smooth with age; a selfish part of her wanted to wear the reminder of those who had loved deeply just for a little while. Families. What did she know of them? Of love and hopes and shared dreams, and black-haired little babies and... From ingrained habit, she pushed away daydreams and locked herself to her goal. “I’ve had time to think in this last week, Roman. You intend to wait me out, don’t you? You know that I don’t stay long in one place, and if you can keep—”
Roman picked her up and plopped her on the counter. His hands braced on the surface at her hips, his hips between her legs. His tone was low, deadly, like the growl of a wolf. “You think that of me?”
She wouldn’t back down. “I accept your offer of marriage—with conditions. I want to know everything. If that’s the only way I can get the information I need, then to speed up the process, I’ll marry you. Separate bedrooms, the same as with—”
“How I feel about you doesn’t compare to my relationship with Debbie. You see, I want to hold you in my arms and love you all night through. I want to wake up beside you, and to give you my babies, if that’s what you want. I want to grow old loving you.” Panic skittered up her nape as Roman frowned. “But if you need separate bedrooms, then that’s what you’ll have.”
“I have to get out of here, and apparently, marriage to you is the fastest way through this. After my mother’s experiences, I know exactly how to dispose of a marriage,” she said, terrified by the commitment Roman had offered her. “Cindi is important. She has to be included.”
The arrangement was so cold, business plopped on the table, instead of a joining of lives. Kallista mourned getting attached to the little girl, only to leave her. She firmed her defences; when the time came to leave, she would know how to soften the break—her mother’s mistakes had taught her everything about what was wrong and hurtful—and Kallista would not hurt the girl. “You made an offer, Roman Blaylock. Are you taking it back? And who is Jeremy Llewlyn?”
Roman inhaled as though she had slapped him; the defensive shields were up, his body tense and his expression hard. “Why?”
What did Roman know? What had Boone told him? “He called. He says he’s my uncle and Boone’s son.”
As he straightened, Roman gathered his secrets around him like a cold, dark cape. He almost frightened her now, his frown fierce, a vein pulsating at his temple, his fists at his sides. “Who have you told?”
“No one. I want the answers from you.”
“Then we’d better get married. I’m not breaking my word to Boone. I’d appreciate it if you’d make my family think you care a bit about me...and my daughter. We’ll need time to do that, and meanwhile I’ll see that Jeremy doesn’t call you again. We can start with that date tonight.”
He turned suddenly, his broad back to her. His body tensed and shuddered, and then he studied the floor. After a long moment, he said quietly, “A week ought to give Else enough time for that cake.”
“Two weeks,” she shot back, bargaining for time to think properly.
“Good enough. Two weeks then.” He turned, smoothed his hand along her cheek and whispered, “You won’t let Boone down, Kallista. You’re a strong, righteous woman, and I’ll always be faithful to you. I’ll always return to you, when the day is done...because you’re a part of me. I’ll treat you with respect and honor you as best I know how.”
“I should hit you over the head with this pot,” she whispered back, when she could, her gaze filling with him. Roman’s simple words could melt her bones and...
Roman chuckled and Kallista could do little but stare at him and wonder who he was and who she was and where they were going and why she wanted to launch herself upon him.
Instead she grinned back at him, and wondered why suddenly, everything seemed bright and new and exciting.
Later that night, while Cindi slept with Patty at Else’s, Kallista melted beneath Roman’s body on the front seat of his pickup, tiny white orchids dotting her hair. With the placing of each orchid, Roman had discussed Cindi and the wedding with Kallista. He’d moved closer, a methodical pursuit, which thrilled and disarmed her, until he’d gently eased her beneath him.
Now, Kallista looked up at Roman’s rumpled hair, his tender smile as his hand skimmed her lace-covered breasts, shaping them. She’d opened his shirt, and his expression had been disbelieving and humbled when she’d placed her hands on his tanned chest, examining the textures. She couldn’t resist a nibble here and there; she could have devoured him and come back for more. “You said you wanted just one kiss.”
“I did,” he said, bending to nuzzle her face with his. The familiar heat rose instantly between them. She parted her lips for Roman’s and met the exciting play of his tongue with her own. Roman was a delight to taste, to explor
e, and he breathed unevenly as he took an orchid from her hair and placed it between her breasts. “Now I want more. Your mouth isn’t righteous, honey. Nor the way you move beneath me, like warm silk.”
“You’re mashing me,” she whispered as he nibbled on her bottom lip and his hand smoothed her thigh, bringing her leg around his hip, her leg tangled with his. His thumb stayed to caress the back of her knee.
“Tonight, when I saw you in this short skirt, I wanted to do this—” His hand grazed her thigh, curved slowly over it and smoothed a heated path down to the top of her boots. Roman braced slightly away, and the movement served to bring his burgeoning, thrusting heat intimately closer to her. He glanced down their tangled bodies, hungry and urgent. He placed his open hand on her stomach, a contrast of his pagan dark strength and her pale soft skin. His thumb ran over her hipbone, traced the jut of it and then the other: his fingertips lightly circled the area below her navel, and she knew he was thinking of the children he wanted.
His finger ran around the elastic of her briefs, then his hand pressed lower, searching.... “You were so hot and tight that first time, I—” He swallowed tightly as if forcing back emotion and then his mouth covered hers urgently; she held her breath, waiting, and his touch caressed, then entered gently as her fingers dug into his shoulders.
When Kallista could think again, her body floating gently back to earth, she realized that Roman probably ached, his expression taut, his body shuddering and tense above hers. That fierce glitter hidden beneath his lashes, the set of his jaw, and his fingers digging slightly into her hip told her that though Roman wanted more, he was letting her set the rules. She smoothed his cheek, drew his lips down to hers and trailed kisses along his face. “I get to you, don’t I?” she asked, thrilled that he lay so humbly within her keeping. “Think how much I can torture you if this wedding goes through.”
“If? It’s damn well going to happen.” He groaned shakily, and when he reached to pull himself up, using the steering wheel, Kallista’s hand bumped the parking brake and the pickup began to roll down the hill. Roman tugged her upright, glanced hungrily at her lace-covered breasts and then tried to brake the pickup. “Hold on.”