Daddy in the Making

She rubbed her belly under her work skirt. No matter the circumstances, she was already head over heels for this child. Like Kristy, this baby would be easy to love, to take care of, to hold and kiss and treasure.

I’ll always be here, she thought, softly patting her tummy. But who needs a daddy you can’t trust?

She kept telling herself that Conn didn’t even know who he was, so what kind of father could he be? As far as she even knew, she’d gone to bed with a fantasy—the Conn Flannigan who had seemed just as taken with her as she’d been with him that night.

That fantasy man didn’t exist, though.

Walking down the hall, she heard the sounds from the computer and went over to Kristy, bending down to plant a long kiss on top of her head. “Come on, sweetie. Time to go.”

“One more minute?” the little girl asked.

“Nope. You’ve still got a half hour banked for computer time this week, though, and you can use it later.”

A jaunty knock sounded on the door, and Kristy bounded over to open it. As Rita shut down the computer, Kristy squealed.

“Aunt Kim!”

When Rita glanced over she saw her younger sister, dressed in old boots and jeans and a threadbare blue T-shirt. Kim was wearing her dark curly hair in a ponytail, seeming every inch the tomboy of the family. She lifted Kristy up, twirled her around, then set her back down and used her forefinger to tweak the child’s nose.

“Why, if it isn’t Tina Ballerina,” Kim said.

“Kristy Ballerina.”

Both Kim and Rita laughed. “Thanks for walking her to school,” she said to Kim on the way out the door.

“No problem. It’s my day off, anyway, and Nick’s got everything covered.”

Good ol’ big bro.

As Rita shut the door, she braced herself for what the day would bring. Would wagging tongues be spreading news about Conn, with the way he was following her around and holding on to that R necklace she’d always worn, ever since she’d bought it from the White-feather Jewelry Boutique with her first real paycheck from the hotel?

She hoped he’d finally gone home. At least, part of her did. The other part of her was just plain masochistic, she supposed, because it yearned for him, even after all that had happened.

They all went down the stairs, coming to the lobby, which was empty at this time of the morning.

Except for one person sitting in a velvet-upholstered chair.

Wouldn’t you know it, at the sight of Conn, Rita’s belly spun into a whir of desire and anxiety. His hat was perched on one bent knee as he perused a brochure about tourist sites in Houston. His hair was so thick and tempting that she bunched her fists, wishing she didn’t want to touch him so badly. He’d also taken a razor to his face, which was freshly shaven, emphasizing a strong jaw and cleft chin.

She shivered, thinking of how he’d held her, how he’d been inside of her. How he’d looked down at her as the dawn had rolled through the crack in the curtains. She’d never seen a look like that before, not even from Kevin, and it’d seemed so real.

Real enough to make her believe that he would stay forever.

He glanced up from his reading, as if he had Rita Radar. “Morning,” he said ever so casually.

Rita was desperate to make it seem as if he were just another customer. “Morning.”

Kristy wasn’t fooled, though. By the way she was pressing against her aunt Kim’s leg, checking Conn out, she recognized him from yesterday.

Rita kissed her daughter goodbye, then thanked Kim again. There weren’t any employees coming in to cover the front desk this morning, so it was up to Rita to do it.

“So we’ll see you tomorrow,” Kim said, heading for the exit with Kristy in tow. Then to Kristy, “We’re going to have fun at our slumber party tonight.”

“Yeah!” Kristy said.

Since Kristy visited Kim frequently, there was no need for packing this morning—Kristy had a drawer of clothing, plus a toothbrush, over at her aunt’s cabin.

Rita went over and gave Kristy an extra-big kiss. “Call me tonight?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“We’ll check in before we have our Caillou marathon.” Kim gave Conn a curious glance before ushering Kristy to the door.

As for Kristy, she just kept checking out the cowboy.

When they left, the room seemed way too quiet. Rita thought about turning on the radio, until Conn got out of his seat and ambled over to the desk.

“I want to thank you for yesterday,” he said. “It helped.”

“Good to hear.”

Her pulse jittered. The last thing she needed was for all her hot-blooded, ill-thought-out feelings to come bursting up right now.

Good thing his next words put a stop to them. “I keep remembering bits and pieces about that night but … There are things that go along with them that I’m not really understanding, Rita.”

Oh, the sound of her name. He had a way of saying it, deep and low. Of owning it, somehow.

But she’d already come to the conclusion during the four months he’d been gone that she’d never be owned—not by another man, not by the anguish she’d managed to tame.

She decided to duck any deeper conversation. It was safer that way. “So your memory’s been jarred?”

“Somewhat.” His brow furrowed, as if he were on the edge of saying or thinking something that wasn’t quite gelling for him. “I could really use more of your help, though. You seem to be some kind of key for me.” He added that devastating smile that had gotten her into bed in the first place. “What do you say?”

That smile tugged at her so hard that she had to grip the counter.

He added, “There’d even be a good dinner it in for you after you finish with work.”

“Then you’ll go home?”

He laughed. “I made arrangements this morning to take some time off from the ranch, so I’m not in any hurry. But I swear I won’t bother you anymore after this. I’d just like to wander around town, see if there’s anything else here that’ll tweak my brain.”

“Goody.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Don’t tell me you’re not free tonight, Rita. I was sitting right here when your sister said she’d be having a slumber party with Kristy.”

Shoot. Kim had mentioned the aunt/niece outing right in front of him. But there were a million other excuses to get out of this—like her final dress fitting for Vi’s wedding early tomorrow, for one. Resting her tired feet, for another.

Yet … She touched her belly. A baby. His baby. Maybe she owed him or her one dinner with the father, just for some closure and a chance to tell him the truth—if she could bring herself to do it.