His-And-Hers Family

by Helen Lacey

  “Most?”

  Cecily immediately looked as if she wished she hadn’t said the word. “I meant I was happy, that’s all. I loved my parents a lot. My mother was always there for me....” She stopped and glanced down to her feet. “My dad was funny and told really bad jokes.”

  There was a sting in her daughter’s words. But Fiona didn’t press her. Wyatt had warned her to expect some resistance. As much as it hurt, she had to allow Cecily her feelings. “I’m glad. And it’s okay living at Waradoon with your grandparents now? Your uncle told me he gets back every weekend?”

  “That’s right,” Cecily replied quietly. “Uncle Wyatt is good at looking after me.”

  “I figured that.”

  “And he’s not all serious and worried about me as though I’m going to fall apart or something like Nan and Pop. Not all the time anyway. Pop’s been really sad since my mother died.”

  Fiona’s throat tightened. “He lost his daughter. It will take time for him to stop being so sad.”

  “I guess.” Cecily stroked the dog some more and stared toward the floor. “Did it...did it take you a long time...I mean, when you lost me?”

  But I didn’t just lose you. I gave you up. I abandoned you. Her heart contracted in a viselike grip. “Forever,” she admitted and was relieved when Cecily looked at her.

  “I guess you didn’t have much choice, you know, when you decided about the adoption thing?” she asked, then immediately looked as if she wished she hadn’t. “That’s what Uncle Wyatt said.”

  Fiona remembered what Wyatt had said about Cecily not wanting to scare her off with too many hard questions too soon, and she swiftly tried to put her at ease. “It was a difficult time. And I’m really happy that you have a nice family who love you.”

  “I do,” Cecily assured her, and then a little firmer, “They really love me. And Uncle Wyatt is the best.”

  Fiona nodded. She was starting to realize that herself.

  * * *

  Wyatt hadn’t any idea how he was supposed to fill his time while Cecily and Fiona became acquainted. After making dinner reservations at the hotel, he drove back to the

  B and B but refused to hang out in the ridiculous purple room. Instead he grabbed his laptop and headed for the kitchen. Evie Dunn was in residence, baking something that smelled so good his stomach growled.

  “Coffee?” she asked when he entered the room.

  “Sure. Thank you.”

  She passed him a mug. “There’s milk in the refrigerator.”

  Wyatt declined. “This is fine,” he said, then asked politely, “When’s your baby due?”

  She patted her expanded belly. “In three months.”

  “Congratulations,” he said and drank some coffee. He remembered Fiona telling him Evie was getting married soon.

  Evie smiled. “Thank you. You know, it’s good of you to allow Fiona this time with your niece.”

  “It’s what Cecily wants.”

  “And Fiona.”

  What did Fiona want? He immediately wondered and his thoughts had nothing to do with Cecily. He knew it was foolish thinking about her in any way other than Cecily’s birth mother. Cecily was the priority. The kid had been through the emotional wringer, and he wasn’t about to do anything that might upset her. Specifically, acting on his attraction for Fiona.

  He’d get over it.

  “She’s a good person.”

  Wyatt looked at Evie. “I know.”

  Evie’s dramatically arched brows rose. “She’s more fragile than she likes to make out.”

  He wasn’t about to disagree. He also wasn’t about to get into a discussion with this woman, who was obviously a close friend of Fiona’s. Wyatt was struck by a sudden surge of loyalty toward Fiona. “I know. So, is there someplace I can get internet access?”

  She gave him a look, a half smile and then let him off the hook. “The study is the second room off the front hall—help yourself.”

  Wyatt grabbed the coffee and laptop and left the room.

  As promised, Fiona returned Cecily at five o’clock. Wyatt had spent a couple of hours in the office, made a call to Alessio to discuss a new contract acquisition and sent a few emails. His niece took no time in telling him what a great afternoon she’d had and how Fiona owned the most beautiful horse on the planet. He switched off the computer and swiveled in the high-backed leather chair.

  Fiona stood in the doorway. She smiled at him and Wyatt’s insides crunched. He cleared his throat. “Dinner’s all set. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.” Cecily nudged his shoulder. “We’ll pick you up.”

  “Sure. Thanks. I’ll see you later, Cecily.”

  Wyatt remained seated and watched as his niece hugged Fiona.

  Once she had left, Cecily perched herself by the desk. “Well?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I like her.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  Sometimes mature beyond her age, Cecily looked every one of her fourteen years as she bit her bottom lip. “And nothing. I like her. She’s nice, just like you said. Do you think I could ask her about my father?”

  Wyatt wasn’t sure. Fiona had been vague at best about the man. He had told Cecily her biological father had passed away, and his niece had accepted the news with quiet acceptance. But she had questions only Fiona could answer, and he wasn’t convinced Fiona would tell the truth. He sensed she was hiding something from him—something that wasn’t in the investigator’s file. And knew he had to find out what it was and decide if it was something he wanted Cecily to know about.

  “Maybe you should take some time getting to know her first?” he said. “Relationships take time.”

  Good advice. Pity he didn’t take it when he’d jumped into his engagement to Yvette.

  She shrugged. “I suppose. But I really want to know about my father. And my grandparents and any other relatives I had. Do you think she regrets giving me up?”

  Wyatt chose his words carefully. “I imagine she’d have some regrets.”

  His niece drew in a deep breath. “She did say she was glad I had a nice family. I didn’t know what to call her, though,” she admitted, and Wyatt immediately reached out and grabbed Cecily’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “The idea of calling her Fiona feels weird...but it’s not like she’s really my mother or anything.”

  “Maybe you could ask Fiona what she thinks about that?” he suggested gently. “You could come up with a name together—like a nickname?”

  Cecily’s eyes widened dramatically. “That’s a good idea.” She nodded, smiled and hugged him quickly. “Thanks, Uncle Wyatt. I’m going to get changed.”

  After lingering at the desk for another five minutes, he shut the computer down and headed back to the purple room. He showered in the en suite bathroom and changed into fresh clothes. Cecily tapped on his door at six-twenty as he was clipping his watch onto his wrist.

  “How do I look?” she asked as she flounced into the room and twirled, showing off wide-legged jeans covered in sparkly diamanté. “Too much?”

  When it came to Cecily’s fashion sense, she had her own style. “You look great. Come on, let’s go.”

  She laughed and bounded ahead as Wyatt grabbed the keys to the rental car.

  The drive to Fiona’s house took only minutes, and the sun was setting as he pulled into the driveway. He saw her silhouette pass by the window. The outline of her curvy body was unmistakable as she moved, and the way his insides rolled over simply thinking about her forced Wyatt to sit in his seat for a long moment after he’d switched off the engine.

  “Uncle Wyatt?”

  Cecily’s voice turned his thoughts around. “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” he said and sucked in a breath and opened the door. “Jump in the backseat
and I’ll be just a minute.”

  By the time he reached her front door, Wyatt felt as if he was sixteen years old and picking a girl up for a date.

  But this is not a date.

  Fiona pulled the door wide as he tapped on the frame. “Hi,” she said. “I’m ready.”

  Stupid, he thought, to imagine she would be as uncomfortable as he was. Except something about her demeanor got his attention, and he knew, without a doubt, she was experiencing the same spike in awareness. The little black dress she wore, which fell over her hips and showed off all her lovely attributes, didn’t help. “Cecily’s waiting.”

  She smiled, flicked off the light from inside the doorjamb and shut the door. “Like I said—I’m ready.”

  Wyatt was ready, too...ready to take her in his arms and kiss her beautiful mouth.

  He stood aside and let her pass. Once inside the car, Wyatt did his best to ignore the flowery scent of her perfume, which hit him with lightning force every time she moved. The drive into town was only made bearable by Cecily’s endless chatter.

  He parked the car and they headed up and within minutes they were being seated in the restaurant.

  “Champagne,” his niece insisted to the hovering waitress once they sat down.

  Wyatt shot her a no chance look. “Wine,” he said and picked a bottle from the list. “And one raspberry lemonade,” he added to the smiling attendant before she walked away.

  Cecily heaved a dramatic sigh. “Uncle Wyatt,” she complained. “This is a celebration. How can I celebrate with soda?”

  “Easily,” he replied. “I’m sure Fiona understands.” He looked at her for the first time since they’d been seated. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted her to think him responsible and a good fill-in parent for Cecily.

  She nodded and he appreciated the unity. “Soda will work just as well,” she said and touched Cecily’s hand. “So let’s order because I’m starving.”

  Their drinks arrived, and once they ordered food, Cecily insisted on toasting to being reunited with her birth mother.

  “To new beginnings,” Fiona said quietly, and as they clinked glasses, Wyatt didn’t miss the glitter of moisture in her eyes.

  “To family,” Cecily said and grinned.

  * * *

  The tears Fiona had valiantly tried to suppress tipped over.

  But they were happy tears. She was happy. Being with Cecily filled her heart in places that been empty for so long. The years of being afraid her daughter would reject her had faded because Cecily had accepted her into her life. Fiona admired her daughter so much.

  Her gaze flicked to Wyatt. This, on the other hand, is where it gets complicated. In all her life she couldn’t remember any man having such a potent effect on her. But with Cecily bouncing in her seat beside her, Fiona knew having feelings for Wyatt...any feelings...was completely out of the question. She remembered what he’d said about logic and sex. Logical was out. It was illogical to want him. Not when she had such a disastrous history in relationships and not when Cecily was bound to be caught in the middle when she failed to hold his attention for longer than a moment. As for sex? She didn’t do casual. She didn’t have sex with men she hardly knew.

  Only, on some level, she felt as if she did know Wyatt and that he knew her. Looking at him, sharing molecules of space with him, she was inexplicably drawn toward the awareness thrumming through her entire body.

  I really want him....

  And worse.

  I really like him....

  They chatted about ordinary things, and once dinner was served, Cecily stopped talking and ate with gusto. She had a healthy appetite and it made Fiona smile, counting all the ways she and her daughter were alike.

  “More wine?” Wyatt asked as Fiona speared the stuffed chicken breast on her plate.

  She nodded, afraid to speak because her mouth was dry and cottony.

  “Can we go shopping sometime this week?” Cecily asked her uncle between mouthfuls of fettuccine.

  “Sure,” Wyatt said as he poured. “For anything in particular?”

  Cecily gave him a big grin. “Well, I was thinking about Christmas in July.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “You know—a Christmas celebration in July. Auntie Ellen was telling me about it. Apparently lots of people do it.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “What people?”

  Cecily made a face and looked at Fiona. “Christmas is always a big deal at Waradoon,” she explained and played with her fork. “I thought it would be nice to celebrate it now, since we’ve missed out on so many real Christmases together. What do you say, Uncle Wyatt?”

  The holidays had never been a particularly cheerful time for Fiona growing up. Shayne had rarely remembered to celebrate the event and her uncle had been too busy running the farm to be bothered with a tree or gifts. Since she’d settled in Crystal Point, Fiona usually spent the day with Callie or Evie and her family. Things had changed now Callie was married. And since Evie’s wedding to Callie’s younger brother, Scott Jones, was only a couple of months away and their baby was due a month after that, Fiona wasn’t sure she would fit within the Preston fold anymore. She’d be the outsider, like she had been so many times before. But she would do anything to see happiness radiating on her daughter’s face.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” she said and smiled at her daughter. “I’ll put up a tree.”

  Cecily laughed. “That would be cool. We can get gifts and put them under the tree.” She turned to her uncle. “Now you have to take me shopping so I can exactly the right gift for Fiona.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “And we should go, too,” she suggested to Cecily, and her heart flipped over when she saw her daughter’s infectious smile in between another mouthful of pasta. “I’m sure you want to get something for your uncle.”

  Cecily giggled. “Ha—he’s already got everything he wants.”

  Fiona looked at Wyatt and burned hot and dizzy beneath his stare as the awareness between them sizzled.

  “Not everything,” he said evenly.

  She took a long drink and focused her attention on her meal. Was she imagining how highly suggestive his words sounded? She didn’t dare look at him. Didn’t dare let herself get caught up in his brilliant blue eyes.

  Fiona inhaled deeply and started a conversation about horses, clearly Cecily’s favorite thing. “We could go riding together,” she suggested. “Callie will have a horse you can borrow while you’re here. Of course, as long as your uncle says it’s okay.”

  “I’m sure you’ll keep her safe,” he said as he looked at her over the rim of his glass.

  As she met his gaze, Fiona was struck by how handsome he was. She’d never been one to be swept away by good looks. But he had his own brand of magnetism, which was quickly becoming impossible to ignore.

  “Of course.”

  Cecily nodded happily and excused herself to use the bathroom. Once she was out of sight, Fiona picked up her glass and pretended to drink her wine, acutely conscious of the heat between them.

  He pushed the plate forward. “Would you like to spend tomorrow morning with Cecily?”

  “I’d like that,” she said and smiled. “I appreciate that you trust me with her.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But you should know that Cecily has questions for you,” he explained. “You were expecting questions, right? She wants to know about her father, her grandparents...your family.”

  I don’t have a family. Only Cecily...

  Panic set in behind her ribs. Of course she knew questions would come. “I’ll tell her—”

  “What?” he asked. “I’d like to know exactly what you plan to tell her. I’d like to know what wasn’t in the investigator’s file.”

  He k
new everything about her life—at least, he thought he did. No one knew about the man who’d taken her innocence. Not the nights she’d been left alone in motel rooms while Shayne chased one cowboy after another. Or the hunger from entire days without food. No one needed to know that. Especially not Cecily. But the questions about her father weren’t going to be avoided easily. Especially when Wyatt had made it clear he wanted to know, too.

  “He was...a friend,” she said, thinking it wasn’t exactly a lie. Jamie Corbett had been her mother’s lover and someone Fiona had trusted...until the night Shayne had left them alone together in their shabby hotel room.

  “A friend?”

  “Yes. And like I said, he’s dead. Talking about him won’t change that.”

  He shifted in his seat and looked at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Panic wound up her spine. Okay, so he could see right through her. It wasn’t really surprising. She was vulnerable around Wyatt. Her attraction to him had been steadily building, like a rising tide. Spending time with him increased those feelings. If she were to keep her secret safe, Fiona knew she had to avoid being alone with him and concentrate on Cecily.

  “I’ve told you everything I—”

  “I’m back!”

  Cecily’s announcement silenced Fiona immediately. “Good. We were just about to tuck into the rest of your fettuccine.”

  The smiles all around belied the tension now ingrained in her bones. She feigned interest in her dinner and concentrated on not looking at Wyatt for the rest of the evening.

  They left about an hour later, and by the time he pulled the car up outside her house, Fiona was a bundle of nervous energy. Cecily was dozing in the backseat and muttered a weary-sounding goodbye as she listened to her iPod. Before Fiona could protest, Wyatt was out of the car and had opened her door. Chivalrous, too, she thought with an inward groan. And handsome and so sexy she could hardly breathe as she stood beside him and walked toward the front door. The tiny porch seemed even smaller with his six-foot-something frame now standing by the door.

  She fumbled with her keys and felt his closeness like a cloak. The dim glow of the overhead light created a heady intimacy. The white shirt he wore amplified the broadness of his shoulders and narrow waist. Warmth crept along her skin, followed by a lightning bolt of lust. But Cecily was in the car barely meters away, and Fiona knew she shouldn’t be having such thoughts.