THE BABY

SURPRISE

BRENDA HARLEN

THE FATHER

FOR HER SON

CINDI MYERS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE BABY

SURPRISE

BRENDA HARLEN

About the Author

BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as a lawyer (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Silhouette Books.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com

Dear Reader,

“Write what you know” is advice frequently given to writers. So maybe it’s not surprising, considering my legal background, that several of the characters I’ve written have been lawyers.

Paige Wilder, the heroine of The Baby Surprise, is one of those characters. In this story, she is trying to balance the demands of her career with the needs of the baby in her custody. It isn’t a unique struggle and many women juggle not just these conflicting responsibilities but various other duties and obligations every single day.

It’s hard to keep all those balls in the air and, when faced with a similar dilemma, I chose to give up the practice of law and stay home with my kids. Luckily for me, I also found a new career path—writing stories with happy endings!

I hope you enjoy this one.

Best,

Brenda Harlen

For Courtney & Terri—

representatives of the new generation

of romance readers.

Thanks for being such loyal fans

(and for Zach’s name).

Prologue

Paige Wilder had less than zero experience with kids, but when Olivia Lowell, a friend and coworker at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne, asked if she would be her birthing coach, she didn’t know how to say no to the single-mother-to-be. And despite her initial apprehension, the event of Emma’s birth was the singular most amazing experience of Paige’s entire life.

So when, several months later, Olivia asked her to watch the baby overnight, Paige had agreed. With both Ashley and Megan—her cousins and two best friends—now in the early stages of pregnancy, she figured it was a good time to get some babysitting experience and that she was up for the challenge.

A decision she was fervently regretting by 5:00 a.m. when she laid Emma in her crib and fell facedown on the narrow bed in Olivia’s guest room. Around midnight, she’d finally set aside the pretrial memorandum she’d been working on and decided to go to sleep. About the same time, the usually-charming infant woke up screaming like a banshee, and she’d repeated the performance almost every hour on the hour since then.

If nothing else, the experience reminded Paige why she’d never thought about having a child of her own. She was simply in awe of any parent who could deal with a crying child through all hours and still manage to get up and go to work the next morning.

As she finally drifted to sleep, she sent up a weary prayer of thanks that this babysitting assignment was only for one night.

Three days later, she found out otherwise.

Owen Wynne, the senior partner who had hired her to work at the firm almost six years earlier, set aside the pages from which he’d finished reading and looked across the desk at her.

Paige, still reeling from the shock that her friend had been killed in a car accident, struggled to comprehend the words he had spoken. “But what does that mean?”

“It means that you are now Emma Jane Lowell’s legal guardian,” he said patiently.

“That can’t be right,” she said, her tone tinged with equal parts desperation and disbelief.

Owen frowned. “I’d assumed, when Olivia came to me about drafting her will, that she’d already discussed this with you.”

She could only shake her head.

“Well, then, you’re certainly entitled to deny her request,” he assured her.

And Paige knew what would happen if she did—nine-month-old Emma would end up in the system. It was possible that the baby would be adopted by a wonderful couple and loved as if she was their own. Or she might bounce from one foster home to another until she’d reached an age where the state was no longer concerned with her care.

Either way, Olivia’s daughter would never know anything about her mother; she would never know how much she had been loved.

But still Paige hesitated. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“Neither did I, when I first became a father,” Owen admitted.

“What about Emma’s father?” she asked, clearly grasping. “Are you sure Olivia never mentioned his name?”

“Not to me.”

Not to Paige, either, other than to insist that she’d had no contact with him since she’d told him she was pregnant. Her friend had always been a private person, but Paige had worried that, in this instance, she’d been so tight-lipped because the man already had a family.

“You don’t have to make a final decision today,” Owen told her.

Except that the decision had been made for her when Olivia named Paige as her daughter’s legal guardian. Why Olivia had chosen her would probably always be a mystery, but she couldn’t disregard her friend’s final wishes.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I want this settled, for Emma’s sake.”

Paige wanted to ensure that Olivia’s baby had the kind of stable childhood that she herself had never known.

But when the papers were signed and she walked out of Owen’s office with Emma in her arms, she felt anything but settled. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that even the best-laid plans could go awry.

Chapter One

Five months later

As a little girl, Paige had never really felt as if she had a home, as if there was anywhere she truly belonged. Growing up as the only child of a divorced Army colonel, she’d left too many homes and too many friends to count, an experience that had taught her early on not to get too attached to anyplace or anyone.

When she was fifteen, her father had decided that Paige was too much trouble to keep with him and had sent her to live with his sister and her family. Even then, Paige had mostly kept to herself. In fact, for the first six months she’d refused to put her clothes in the dresser of the room she’d been told was her own, certain she would need to pack up and leave again as soon as she felt settled.

But six months had turned into a year and then two, and Paige found herself growing close to Ashley and Megan, the two sisters who were her cousins and now also her best friends.

Still, her aunt’s residence had never felt like home so much as a house that she was visiting. Even when Paige moved into her own condo in Syracuse, it was little more than a place to store her belongings and lay her head. But there was a house on Chetwood Street in Pinehurst, New York, that Ashley and Megan had purchased a few years earlier, and Paige felt more at home there than anywhere else she’d ever lived. So maybe it wasn’t surprising that it was where she went when her life fell apart.

She had called both of her cousins to let them know that she wanted to come home for a while and to make sure they didn’t mind if she stayed at the currently empty house. Megan had been the first to move out, when she’d married Gage Richmond the previous year, followed by Ashley, who had vacated the premises only a month ago, after her wedding to Cameron Turcotte. The sisters had decided to list the house for sale but hadn’t yet taken any steps in that direction, so Paige had proposed that she rent the property for the summer.

She really wasn’t sure how long she intended to stay. Her career as a family-law attorney usually kept her too busy to allow for anything more than a long weekend, and even then she usually worked extra hours both before and after in order to make up for the time away from her office. As for an actual vacation, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken one, although she had taken more than the occasional day here and there over the past five months—a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the partners who were now concerned about her apparent lack of commitment to her clients and the firm.

It was the reason for this hiatus, which came with the recommendation that she take the time to think about what she wanted for her future. As if having full-time care of a fourteen-month-old baby allowed one time to think.

At first she’d been so shocked by the suggestion that she hadn’t known what to say or do. Her immediate instinct had been to insist that she wanted what she’d always wanted—a partnership at the firm. It was what she’d been working toward for the past half-dozen years. But when she’d picked Emma up from the sitter after work, she’d accepted that a lot had changed in the past five months, that taking care of Emma had changed her.

And if it really came down to a choice between having her name stenciled on the wall behind the reception desk at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne or providing an orphaned little girl with some semblance of family, well, there really wasn’t a choice to be made. Because she loved that little girl with her whole heart.

That realization had been a simple one, but it was followed by some tough questions. Most notably, if she chose at this point in her life to walk away from the career she had only recently started to build, where would she go? What would she do?

It was these concerns that had directed her toward Pinehurst, New York.

Unfortunately, almost a week later, she still wasn’t any closer to figuring out if she could balance her professional obligations and personal responsibilities, or even if she wanted to.

It was difficult enough to accept that Emma would never know her mother or father, but the demands of Paige’s career required that she leave the child with a babysitter for ten hours a day. Of course, Annabelle was a wonderful caregiver who had been chosen by Olivia to take care of her daughter, but that knowledge did little to alleviate Paige’s feelings of guilt.

These thoughts were weighing on her mind Thursday night when she was startled by a brisk knock on the door. A quick glance at the glowing numbers on the front of the DVD player revealed that it was 8:12 p.m., but because Emma had been fussing for so long and had only just fallen asleep, it felt much later.

She pushed herself up from the chair, careful not to jostle the baby, and hurried toward the door. She’d spoken to both Ashley and Megan earlier in the day and neither had made mention of any plan to stop by, and because both of them had keys to the house, it was safe to assume that someone else was knocking.

Shifting Emma to her other shoulder, she hastily tugged open the door before the uninvited guest could knock again.

She noticed his eyes first. Dark blue, intensely focused and strangely familiar. And when those eyes locked on her, she felt an unexpected surge of heat through her veins, an unwelcome sizzle in her blood.

Then she noticed the uniform, and everything inside of her went cold.

“Are you Paige Wilder?”

His voice was deep and sexy, and she felt that sizzle again. But ignored it.

“I am,” she admitted. “Though I don’t know why my identity would be of any interest to a lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force.”

His brows lifted, as if he was surprised by her accurate reading of his uniform insignia, and she was struck again not just by the intensity of his gaze, but also the rugged handsomeness of the whole face. His skin was tanned and taut over his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. His hair was dark and glossy and short. He was well over six feet—probably six-three, she guessed—and his shoulders were broad, his torso long and lean, his legs even longer.

The overall effect was one that any woman could appreciate, and Paige was no exception. Apparently fifteen years as an army brat hadn’t inoculated her against the effect of a handsome man in uniform, but five years as an attorney had taught her the wisdom of looking beneath the surface.

“I’m not here in an official capacity,” he assured her.

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m Zach Crawford—” his gaze shifted to the baby curled up against her chest, then back to her “—Emma’s father.”

Emma’s father.

The words echoed in Paige’s mind, the implications sweeping through her with the chilling intensity of a bitter winter wind, numbing everything inside of her despite the warmth of the late-May evening. She instinctively tightened her hold on the baby in her arms and took a step back, away from this stranger’s outrageous claim.

The man standing on the porch interpreted her action as an invitation and moved forward. She shook her head and stood rooted in his path.

“Emma doesn’t have a father,” she told him.

Amusement glinted in those all-too-familiar eyes.

Emma’s eyes.

She desperately pushed that thought aside, trying to convince herself that his eyes were simply blue and any perceived resemblance was nothing more than that.

“Are you really that unfamiliar with basic biology, Ms. Wilder?” he asked.

She felt her cheeks heat in response to the unexpected teasing note in his deep voice. “Olivia told me that Emma’s father wasn’t interested in being a father,” she clarified.

“Then she lied,” he said bluntly.

Paige shook her head again. “She named me as Emma’s guardian because she had no other family. Because Emma had no other family.”

“Except that’s not exactly true, either.”

She couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it. Why would Olivia have lied about something like that? And, more importantly, what did this man’s presence here now mean for the little girl sleeping in her arms?

“Look, I can see that this has caught you off guard,” he said. “And I’m sure we both have a lot of questions that, if you let me come in, we could discuss without the neighbors watching.”

A quick glance across the street confirmed that Melanie Quinlan, an attractive young divorcée who made no secret of the fact that she was on the hunt for husband number two, was in her front yard, garden hose in hand to water the flowers she’d just finished planting. Except that her attention was on the uniformed stranger, so she was actually watering her porch rather than the colorful blossoms in the bed in front of it.

Paige lifted her free hand to wave, and the other woman smiled and waved back enthusiastically, not even trying to hide the fact that her attention was riveted to the scene playing out in front of her—or at least on the man who was part of that scene.

“If I said no, would you go away?” Paige asked Zach.

“No.”

She sighed and stepped away from the door. “Just let me put Emma down.”

She wasn’t sure why she thought he might protest, why she thought he might want to hold the child he claimed was his own—or at least take a closer look at her—but she was undeniably relieved when he let her go without a word. She felt his gaze on her, though, the weight of that intense stare heavier than the child in her arms, and wondered why it made her feel all hot and tingly inside.

She worried over that as she carefully laid Emma on her back in the crib and bent to touch her lips to the baby’s soft cheek. She inhaled the scent of baby shampoo and felt tears sting her eyes. She’d started to take this nightly ritual for granted, and now the appearance of a stranger at her door threatened not just this special time she shared with the little girl, but also the whole future she’d envisioned for them together.

She’d never thought about having a child of her own. Even when it was all her friends and family had been talking about, she’d been too busy with her career to spare a single thought to motherhood. But then Emma had come into her life, and suddenly stepping into the role wasn’t a choice but a necessity.

She’d had to make a lot of adjustments when she learned that Olivia had named her as Emma’s guardian, and not without resistance, at least in the beginning. But it hadn’t taken Paige long to realize that Emma hadn’t just changed her life, she’d enriched it. The little girl’s presence made her think about things she hadn’t thought about before. Playing the part of her guardian made her appreciate what it meant to be a mother when that wasn’t something Paige had ever considered.

But through all of the transitions and adjustments, Paige had never imagined that someday someone might turn up in her life and lay claim to the child, as Zach Crawford had just done.

Olivia had always been stubbornly closemouthed about the man who had fathered her child. It was the only topic about which Paige had ever really argued with her friend. She didn’t care about the identity of the man except insofar as she believed he should bear some responsibility for the child he’d helped create.

She’d been frustrated by Olivia’s stoic determination, but her friend had always maintained that she could do it alone—and she wanted to. She knew that there were people who whispered about her situation—not because she was an unwed mother-to-be but because they knew that having to shoulder the responsibility on her own would limit the professional opportunities available to her. She would no longer be able to schedule late-night meetings or quick out-of-town trips for the convenience of a client, and at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne, imposing such limitations was akin to career suicide.

The few female partners at the firm had done everything but handstands to prove they deserved to be there. And any woman who happened to be a mother and a lawyer was even more suspect because—God forbid—she might put her family responsibilities ahead of her obligations to the firm. Karen Rosario had waited until she’d made partner to start a family and gave birth to her first baby at age forty-two. And then she hired a live-in nanny to raise the child she’d supposedly wanted so much.

When Paige decided to go into law, she hadn’t considered how difficult it might be to someday balance her career with a family. But she’d thought about it a lot after Olivia told her she was pregnant, and the more she’d thought about it, the angrier she’d become thinking that Olivia was making all of the sacrifices while the man who’d gotten her pregnant—whoever he might be—had simply walked away from his responsibilities.

Maybe it was the lawyer in her, but Paige had wanted to track him down and slap him with a paternity suit to ensure that he at least shared financial responsibility for the baby he’d helped make.

“It’s a lot of responsibility to handle on your own,” Paige said to her friend, cautiously broaching the topic she’d avoided for the past several months because she’d been certain Olivia would tell her about the baby’s father when she was ready. But so far, she’d volunteered nothing.

“I know.”

“Are you sure you have to do it alone? Maybe the father—”

“No,” Olivia interrupted quickly. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“You’re an attorney—you know better than that. Whether you like it or not, it’s his baby, too, and that means he has both legal rights and responsibilities.”

“He has enough responsibilities without adding a child—especially one that neither of us planned—into the mix.”

The comment gave her pause, but Paige finally asked, “Is he married?”

She was relieved when Olivia laughed at the question.

“Married? No, he’s not married. And he’s not the kind of guy who would cheat on his wife if he was.”

“But he’s the kind of guy who would abandon the woman who’s pregnant with his child?” she challenged.

Her friend looked away. “Drop it, Paige. Please.”

Because she could tell that Olivia was still hurting, and because she knew better than anyone that a man couldn’t be forced to feel something for a child he didn’t want, she’d dropped it.

And Olivia had never told her anything else about her baby’s father, not even his name, which meant that Paige had a lot of questions for Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford.

She headed back downstairs now, determined to get some answers.

Zach was still standing in the hallway where she’d left him, his feet shoulder-width apart, his hands clasped behind his back. Paige recognized the military stance but, in conjunction with the uniform, it left her feeling anything but “at ease.”

She moved toward the kitchen, and he fell into step behind her. She’d spent countless hours in this room, usually with Ashley or Megan or both, and she’d never felt as if the space was small. But something about Zach’s presence made her feel… crowded. She was far too aware of him—his impressive height, his obvious strength, his overwhelming masculinity.

She glanced at him as she reached for the empty carafe from the coffeemaker, and she swallowed hard when she found those intense and stunningly blue eyes on her. The tug of attraction came again, and she found herself as annoyed as she was baffled by it.

Of all the times for her body to suddenly decide it had been in stasis for too long, now was not a good one. And even if it had been a good time, Zach Crawford was definitely not a man she should ever find herself attracted to. Not just because of the uniform, but because he had once been intimately involved with one of her best friends.

It occurred to her that the uniform might have been why her friend had never told her about the man who had fathered her child. Because Olivia knew something of Paige’s history with her father, she knew Paige would question her decision to get involved with a man who could never make her or their daughter a priority in his life.

She was considering this as she turned on the tap to fill the carafe. “Do you want coffee?” she asked Zach.

“I’ve been on the go since oh-five-hundred,” he told her. “I would love coffee.”

She’d been up since oh-five-hundred herself—5:00 a.m. to nonmilitary people—and she would have preferred to skip the coffee and sink into her mattress and into the oblivion of sleep as peacefully as Emma had finally done.

But she knew she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight—not until she had some answers to the questions that had been swirling through her brain since Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford had spoken the two words that continued to echo in her mind.

Emma’s father.

If it was true, if Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford really was the father of Olivia’s baby, that simple fact would change everything.

Paige worried over the possibility as she put a filter in the basket and measured out the grounds.

It was easy to see how Olivia might have been attracted to the man. Over and above the fact that he was six feet three inches of mouth-watering masculinity, he moved with a sense of purpose and carried himself with an aura of command that were as much a part of who he was as those blue, blue eyes.

She reached into the cupboard for two mugs and filled them from the carafe.

“Cream? Sugar?” she asked him.

“Just black, thanks.”

She handed him one of the mugs and added a splash of milk to the other.

He waited until she’d taken a seat at the pub-style table in the dining room, then sat down across from her.

“I understand you worked at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne with Olivia?”

She nodded.

“You were good friends?”

“Since our first year at law school together,” she told him.

“She never mentioned you to me.”

“She never mentioned you to me, either,” she told him. “In fact, she never said anything about Emma’s father.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing at all?”

“The only thing she ever told me, and only when I asked where the baby’s father fit into the picture, was that he wasn’t interested in playing any role in his child’s life.”

He scowled at that. “I might not have been thrilled by the news of her pregnancy, if she’d ever bothered to tell me, but she had to know there was no way in hell I would abandon my child.”

“If Olivia never told you she was pregnant, how did you find out? And how do you know that you are Emma’s father?”

“Well, at this point, I’m not one-hundred-percent certain,” he admitted. “But I have a letter from Olivia that says I am, and I have no reason to disbelieve it.”

“You just said Olivia lied.”

“She lied to you,” he clarified, “if she told you that I didn’t want to know my child. Because the truth is, I didn’t know about the baby. Not until I got home from Afghanistan and found the letter she’d left for me.”

“Olivia died five-and-a-half months ago,” Paige told him, with an ache in her heart that was more for the child who would never know her mother than for the premature end of her friend’s life.

A shadow—grief? regret?—momentarily clouded those stunning blue eyes, but then it passed and he nodded. “I found that out when I went to your law firm to find her. The receptionist told me about the accident.”

“No one knows why she was in New Jersey,” Paige admitted.

He sipped his coffee, then set the mug down again. “I live in Trenton,” he told her. “Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I have an apartment about five minutes from the base, which is where I sleep when I’m in town.”

“She went … to see you?”

He nodded, confirming another fact that seemed to give credence to his claim of paternity. Of course, Paige wasn’t going to take his word for it, nor was she simply going to hand over a child on the basis of his say-so.

“My landlord told me a young woman stopped by looking for me early in the new year. When he told her I was overseas, she left a letter for me.”

“Do you have the letter?”

He took it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and passed it across the table to her.

Apprehension whispered through her as she picked up the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the flap and pulled out the single page.

Zach,

I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re hearing from me now, after so much time has passed, especially since I was the one who asked you not to contact me, so I’ll get straight to the point. You have a daughter.

Chapter Two

Paige sucked in a breath, startled to see the words clearly written there, supporting this stranger’s claim to the little girl in her care. She wanted to crumple the letter in her fist, to stuff the paper back in the envelope and tell Zach to take it away, to tell him to go away—far away from Emma. But she forced herself to read on.

When she was done, she refolded the letter and tucked it in the envelope again, then slid it across the table to him. She picked up her half-empty coffee cup then set it down without drinking, her stomach churning.

“With all due respect, I have no intention of giving up custody of Emma just because you showed up on my doorstep with a letter that claims you’re her father.”

“A letter written by her mother,” he pointed out.

She couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure that Olivia had actually written the letter. In an age of computers and e-mail and text messaging, she honestly didn’t recognize the handwriting as her friend’s. However, why would this man be here now if he didn’t believe it was true?

“Even so, Olivia never identified you as the father on Emma’s birth certificate,” she reminded him.

“Did she name anyone else?”

She ignored his question. “I was Olivia’s birthing coach—I went to prenatal classes with her and I was in the delivery room when Emma was born. And through it all, Olivia never once mentioned your name. And, contrary to what is in that letter, she claimed that Emma’s father knew of the pregnancy but wanted no part of his child.”

“That was the lie,” he said again.

And the contents of the letter he carried certainly bore that out. But she wasn’t ready to give up, she wasn’t ready to have her heart torn out of her chest, and she knew that was what would happen if he took Emma away.

“Still, I think the best course of action right now would be to have a paternity test.”

He frowned into his empty mug, then pushed back his chair to refill it. “Fine,” he said. “How soon can we get that done?”

“I can make some calls tomorrow,” she told him. “But probably not until sometime next week.”

His scowl deepened.

“And you’re going to need a lawyer,” she told him.

“Aren’t you a lawyer?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to represent you.”

“Why in hell do I need representation?”

“Because …” She hesitated, not wanting to give him any ideas about seeking custody if that wasn’t a course of action he’d already considered. Maybe he didn’t want Emma with him—maybe he just wanted to meet the little girl he believed was his daughter. So all she said was, “Because you should make sure you understand all of your rights and responsibilities.”

“I’m aware of my rights and responsibilities,” he assured her. “And I intend to be a father to my daughter.”

Which still didn’t tell her whether he was looking for full custody or standard every-other-weekend noncustodial parent access or occasional visits during his periods of leave.

“For how long?” she asked.

He frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

“When do you have to report back for duty?”

“July seventh.”

Which was actually longer than she’d expected and still not nearly long enough if he was serious about building a relationship with Emma. “So why are you even here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did you bother to come all this way, feign an interest in being a father to the child you claim is your own, if you’re going to go wheels up again in a few weeks?”

“I’m not feigning an interest,” he said. “And I’ll go wheels up again because that’s my job.”

“And if Emma is your daughter, who will take care of her while you’re doing your job?”

Zach was taken aback, not just by Paige’s question—which demonstrated the glaringly obvious fact that he hadn’t thought very far ahead when he’d embarked on this journey—but by the disapproval in her tone.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t have all of the answers. Maybe he didn’t have any of the answers. But he was determined to do the right thing and, as far as he could tell, being a father to his daughter was the right thing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’ll make arrangements.”

“You mean day care,” she guessed.

“Didn’t you have her in day care?”

“Olivia had found a babysitter who lives close to the office. It’s a more personal environment than a day care and Emma’s happy there.”

“That’s great,” Zach said. “Except that I live in New Jersey.”

Paige dipped her head, her coppery hair falling forward to hide her face, but not before he saw the tears that filled her eyes.

He silently cursed himself for his insensitivity. Because he knew that as much as he’d been completely blindsided by the news that he had fathered a child, this woman had been just as shocked to find him standing at her door. For the past five-and-a-half months she’d been raising Emma. She’d been responsible for the day-to-day care of his child and, with a few simple words, he’d threatened to destroy the foundation of that relationship.

He impulsively reached across the table and touched a hand to her arm.

She jolted at the unexpected contact. Or maybe she’d been startled by the electricity that suddenly crackled in the air. It had sure as hell startled him.

She looked at him now, and he saw both wariness and awareness in the depths of her dark brown eyes. He’d expected her to have green eyes to go with the red hair. Instead, they were the color of rich, dark chocolate and sinfully tempting. His gaze dipped to her mouth, to lips that were naturally pink and sweetly curved, and he found himself wondering if they would taste as good as they looked.

Whoa—totally inappropriate thought there.

This woman was the legal guardian of his daughter, and it was unlikely he would gain either her trust or sympathy by making a move on her within two hours of meeting her. But he couldn’t deny he was tempted.

Of course, he’d been overseas for the past year and a half and hadn’t been with a woman for even longer than that. In fact, he hadn’t been with anyone since the last weekend he’d spent with Olivia … likely the weekend their daughter had been conceived.

Thinking of Emma reminded him why he was there, and he dropped his hand from Paige’s arm. But the air continued to crackle, the tension continued to build.

“I don’t want us to be adversaries,” he said at last.

“I don’t see how we can be anything else, not if it’s your intention to disrupt Emma’s life.”

“I want to get to know my daughter. How is that disruptive?”

“The disruption will come when you disappear from her life as abruptly as you appeared in it.”

She spoke with such conviction he guessed it was likely that she’d grown up with a father who was a transitory presence, too. He knew he had no hope of defending himself against her personal demons, so he only said, “Maybe we should continue this conversation tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I just got home last night, I read Olivia’s letter this morning, then drove from Trenton to Syracuse to Pinehurst, all the while trying to get my head around the fact that I have a fourteen-month-old child I didn’t know anything about before today.”

“I thought you’d be going back to New Jersey tomorrow, if not sooner.”

“You mean you wished I was.”

She didn’t deny it.

“I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out,” he assured her.

“Unless duty calls,” she guessed.

“I have almost two months.”

But the skepticism in her eyes warned that she knew it was a promise he couldn’t make and confirmed that Paige’s apparent disapproval of his career was about more than the possibility of his deployment interfering with his ability to get to know Emma.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.

“What time is good?”

“Not oh-five-hundred,” she warned.

He smiled. “How about oh-nine-hundred?”

“A much more civilized hour.”

Zach wished her a good-night and made his way to the door.

His first meeting with Paige Wilder hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. But nothing had gone quite as he’d expected since his plane had touched down at McGuire Air Force Base twenty-eight hours earlier. From the shocking news revealed by Olivia’s letter to his unexpected and undeniable reaction to Paige Wilder, his life was suddenly FUBAR.

Yet, as he made his way to his SUV, he realized he was whistling and already looking forward to tomorrow.

Zach had spotted a couple of hotels on Main Street when he’d driven through town earlier, so he started to retrace his route, figuring he would check into the first one that he came across. He found “Hadfield House—A Bed-and-Breakfast” first. The sign outside promised private baths and hot breakfasts, but Zach only cared that there was an empty bed because he was too exhausted to go much farther.

Thankfully he always traveled with a duffel bag packed with a change of clothes and some basic toiletries—he certainly hadn’t planned on staying overnight. He hadn’t planned on being gone more than a few hours—just long enough to make the trip into Syracuse, talk to Olivia, demand an explanation for the letter and her silence, and try to figure out what the hell they were supposed to do now.

The news that Olivia was dead had been as much a shock as her revelation about the baby. And although he grieved the death of the vibrant young woman, he was also frustrated by the realization that he wouldn’t ever have the opportunity to confront her and demand answers to the questions that crowded his mind.

Early that morning, when he’d read Olivia’s letter—and reread it over and over again, as if doing so might somehow change the words that were written—he’d tried to call her, but both her home and cell numbers were out of service. At the time, he’d been more annoyed than concerned by the realization, but he’d decided that the conversation they needed to have should be face-to-face, and he’d driven to the apartment building she’d lived in while they were dating.

When he got there, he found that her name was no longer on the tenant directory and his inquiries of the landlord only revealed that she no longer lived there. His next stop was the law firm where she worked, and when he walked through the heavy glass doors of the law offices of Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne, he’d been confident that he was getting closer to the answers he sought.

It was the receptionist—Louise Pringle, according to the nameplate on her desk—who’d told him, with tears in her eyes, that Olivia had been killed in a motor-vehicle collision more than five months earlier.

He’d had to swallow around the lump of guilt and regrets that had lodged in his throat before he could ask, “Did she have her baby with her?”

“Oh, no. Paige was babysitting the little angel, and thank the good Lord for that.”

Relief shuddered through his system, assuring him that, although the news about the baby had rocked him to the very core, he wanted a chance to know his child, to be a father to his little girl.

“Paige?” he prompted.

“Paige Wilder. She’s another one of the attorneys here. She has legal custody of Emma now.”

“Is it possible for me to see Ms. Wilder?”

“She’s out of town,” the efficient Louise had said, consulting the schedule on her computer. “But Victoria Lawrence might be able to squeeze you in around two o’clock tomorrow.”

“Thanks, but I really need to see Ms. Wilder,” he had said. “Do you have a number where I could contact her?”

The older woman had started to shake her head, but then she eyed the uniform again and paused. “I really can’t give out that kind of information,” she said. “Maybe if you left your name and number and the reason you want to speak with her, I could contact Paige and ask her to get in touch with you.”

“It’s a personal matter.”

The furrow in her brow deepened, but when she looked up at him again, her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize?” he prompted.

“You’re Emma’s father.”

Her matter-of-fact assertion had taken him aback. Although he had originally gone to the law offices to see Olivia about that possibility, he’d been completely unprepared to hear a stranger echo his short-term girlfriend’s allegation.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, as wary as he was curious.

“She has your eyes,” Louise told him.

“Crawford blue” was how his mother had always referred to the color that each of her children had inherited from their father.

Although blue was a common eye color, he’d had enough people comment on the unique shade of his to realize that “Crawford blue” was distinctive. But he couldn’t say for certain whether or not Olivia’s child had the same color eyes because she’d been asleep when he arrived at Paige Wilder’s door.

He hadn’t looked at her closely enough to see if there was any other resemblance. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to. He was willing to do the right thing by his child, if Emma was his child, but, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to tackle fatherhood and everything it entailed at this point in his life. He hadn’t thought much about having kids at all, except in the vaguest of terms and somewhere in a still-distant future.

He was thirty-seven years old, long past the age when most of his contemporaries had settled down with a wife and kids. Some of them were even on their second or third wives, which was not a path he had any desire to follow.

But if he’d fathered a child, as Olivia claimed, he would be a father to that child.

And so he’d taken the address Louise had discreetly slipped to him and he’d found Paige Wilder and Emma.

He’d found his daughter.

And seeing the baby in Paige’s arms had absolutely terrified him.

He’d seen and experienced some unbelievable things during his years in the Air Force, all without batting an eye. But the sight of that beautiful little girl, so small and vulnerable and completely dependent, had nearly knocked him on his ass.

After Zach left, Paige stood beside Emma’s crib, tears streaming down her cheeks as the truth of the situation sank in. She could try to block Zach Crawford at every turn, she could stall him with all kinds of legal maneuvering, but her efforts would only delay the inevitable. Because she knew too well that the interest of a previously unknown father was a significant change in circumstances that could—and would—successfully challenge her custody decree.

And losing Emma would break her heart.

Why did you do it, Olivia? Why did you lie about Emma’s father?

Of course, her friend couldn’t answer her questions now, and Paige found herself cursing in frustration. And then she felt guilty for cursing a woman who had died so young and so tragically—a woman who had been one of her closest friends and yet, in retrospect, a woman she wasn’t sure she had really known at all.

If I’d known, I would have been prepared for the possibility that Emma’s father might show up someday. Instead, you let me fall in love with this child, never guessing that Zach Crawford might show up and want to take her away.

She had no doubt that was what he planned to do. A man who had risen to the rank of lieutenant colonel was undoubtedly dedicated, honorable and trustworthy—definitely not the type of man to walk away from his own child.

But maybe Emma wasn’t his child. Maybe, despite Olivia’s letter, her friend was mistaken about the baby’s paternity. Because aside from the eye color, she really hadn’t seen any resemblance between Zach and Emma. The man was a complete contrast to the child. He was so solid and strong and—

The mental image was so vivid that her heart actually skipped a beat, and Paige cursed herself for the uncharacteristic weakness. She wasn’t usually the type of woman to get all fluttery and tongue-tied over a handsome man, and letting her imagination run wild with respect to Zach Crawford wasn’t just futile—it was dangerous.

I don’t want us to be adversaries.

But they were, and she needed to remember that and forget that the lieutenant colonel had stirred feelings she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Chapter Three

Zach didn’t usually dream. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he didn’t usually remember his dreams. But when he bolted up in bed early the next morning, the details were fresh in his mind and his heart was pounding hard and fast from the adrenaline that had surged through his system.

He scrubbed his hands over his jaw, blinked away the last remnants of slumber and reminded himself that it had only been a dream.

But it had felt so unbelievably and terrifyingly real.

He was flying an F-22 Raptor in enemy skies when the jet suddenly started to spin. He couldn’t get the plane under control and he was dropping fast. He swore and he prayed, then he reached for the ejection handle.

But he felt no relief when he successfully punched out, only an escalating sense of panic when the parachute failed to deploy. Then he glanced down and saw that there was a baby sitting in his lap. A tiny little girl who looked up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes. And all he could do was hold on to her and fervently pray as they plunged toward the ground.

He pushed himself out of bed and strode toward the bathroom. A quick flick of his wrist had the shower running, and he stripped away his briefs and stepped under the pounding spray, desperate to clear the lingering shadows of the dream from his mind.

He didn’t need a psychiatric assessment to know that learning he was a father had sent his whole world spinning out of control. What worried him more was to think that maybe the dream hadn’t simply been a manifestation of his own fears but an omen—a warning that his sudden appearance in Emma’s life could tear her away from the safety and security of the life she had with her legal guardian.

And suddenly an image of Paige Wilder filled his mind.

The gleaming coppery hair, the dark chocolate-colored eyes and the distinctly feminine curves packed quite a punch. There was no denying that he’d felt an immediate jab of purely sexual attraction the moment she’d opened her door. But it was more than her obvious physical beauty that tugged at him. It was the stubborn tilt of her chin, the determined glint in her eyes and the realization that this woman was as fiercely protective of the little girl who had been placed in her care as a mother bear would be of her cubs.

But Zach wasn’t going to be scared off by anything she said or did because that little girl was his daughter. He was sure of it. And he suspected that Paige was sure of it, too, but she was going to drag things out, hoping that he would have to go wheels up again before anything was resolved.

If that was the case, Paige Wilder was in for a surprise because Zach wasn’t going anywhere without his daughter.

Emma was still sound asleep when the sun started to peek over the horizon, but Paige crawled out of bed anyway. Oh- nine-hundred was definitely a more civilized hour, but she knew that the promise of French toast would be enough to summon her cousins for a quick breakfast meeting before Zach arrived.

Ashley was a first-grade teacher who’d never wanted anything more than she’d wanted a family, and in the past year she’d ended her engagement to a cheating fiancé and then married the high-school sweetheart who had moved back to town. Now she was stepmother to his darling little girl and expecting a baby of her own in just about three months. Megan was the vice president of research and development at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, married to the company president’s youngest son and in her ninth month of pregnancy.

The three of them had traditionally met once a month for Sunday brunch and, occasionally, on Friday nights just to hang out together. It used to be that their social gatherings included as much wine as conversation, but that had changed in the past year since first Megan and then Ashley got pregnant and Paige learned she’d been entrusted with custody of Emma.

But the camaraderie they shared and their trust in one another hadn’t changed, and Paige knew they never would. And that was why she’d come home—to be with these women who knew her better than anyone else ever had, who understood her hopes and dreams, and who would understand how confused and conflicted she was feeling right now.

As if on cue, Ashley was at the door with her seven-year-old stepdaughter just as the coffee finished brewing and Emma woke up.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Maddie,” she said. “I figured she could help keep Emma busy while we talked and then she and I can leave for school directly from here.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Paige said because, aside from the fact that she was grateful Ashley was there, she absolutely adored Maddie.

“Do you like French toast?” she asked.

The child’s eyes sparkled as she nodded her head enthusiastically. “I love French toast.”

“Then you get the first piece,” Paige decided, dipping a slice of bread into the egg batter, then dropping it into the hot pan.

Her cousins were the reason she’d come back to Pinehurst when the proverbial rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet. Of course, she’d had no idea then that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better—and she was keeping her fingers crossed that they would get better—but she knew she could count on Ashley and Megan to stand by her and support her whatever she decided to do.

“Mmm, I smell French toast,” Megan said, waddling into the kitchen a few minutes later.

“I promised you breakfast,” Paige reminded her.

“So you did,” Megan agreed. “But you know we would have come even without the bribe.”

Paige nodded, tears stinging her eyes as she slid the spatula under the bread and flipped it in the pan.

And although she knew her cousins had to be curious about the reason for her frantic phone calls last night, they didn’t press her. Instead, they worked around one another in the kitchen—Paige making the toast, Ashley serving it up for the kids, Megan brewing the herbal tea her sister had always preferred while sipping half a cup of coffee generously doctored with milk for the benefit of the baby she was carrying.

When Maddie had finished her breakfast and washed up, she took Emma into the living room to play with her, and the three adults sat down with their plates.

“Is this about the hunky guy Melanie saw you with last night?” Ashley asked.

“When did you see Melanie?” Paige countered.

“What hunky guy?” Megan wanted to know.

“Melanie was walking her dog when Maddie and I were on our way over here. She told me that there was a tall, dark-haired and very handsome man at your door last night and that you invited him inside. But not for very long, she assured me. Just about long enough for a cup of coffee, and then he was on his way again.”

Paige shook her head. “Remind me again why I decided to stay here.”

“Because you wanted to take some time to figure out your future, because you wanted to be closer to Megan and I, and because it’s a great neighborhood where the residents look out for one another.”

“Is that another way of saying ‘spy on one another'?”

“Who cares about the neighborhood?” Megan said. “I want to hear about the hunky man.”

Paige swirled a piece of French toast in syrup, then set her fork down again without eating it. Even the coffee that was as necessary to her system as oxygen in the morning wasn’t sitting comfortably in her stomach, and the breakfast she’d prepared held even less appeal.

“The hunky man is Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford of the United States Air Force. He claims—”

She thought she could get through this without any more tears, but the moisture that filled her eyes proved otherwise.

“He claims to be Emma’s father.”

“Emma’s father?” The shock in Ashley’s voice echoed Paige’s initial response to Zach’s announcement.

She nodded.

“Did he have any proof?” Megan demanded. As a successful research scientist, she was skeptical of anything that couldn’t be proven.

“He had a letter … from Olivia.”

Megan reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Olivia named you as Emma’s guardian.”

“I know. But if it turns out that he is her father—” She couldn’t finish the thought.

But she didn’t need to. When Ashley reached for her other hand, she knew that they understood the bond she’d formed with Emma. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t carried the child in her womb or given birth to her—she’d taken prenatal classes with Olivia, coached her through the birth and, after the doctor and the mother, she’d been the first to hold the newborn baby.

Still, it was more than that. It was the realization that when Olivia died, the child had no one. And admittedly, there had been more than a few moments when Paige had cursed her friend for naming her the baby’s guardian, moments when she’d fervently wished Olivia had chosen someone—anyone—else.

But now things were different. They had a routine, and a connection. When Emma cried, Paige instinctively knew whether she was wet or hungry or tired or just wanted to be held. And she’d found that nothing comforted her so much as offering comfort to the baby she’d grown to love as if she were her own.

“If he’d shown up five months ago—heck, maybe even five weeks ago—I might have jumped at the opportunity to turn Emma over to him. But now … I can’t imagine my life without her.”

“You’re the expert on custody matters,” Ashley reminded her. “So all I’ll say is, whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

“Absolutely,” Megan agreed.

Paige knew it was true, and their unwavering support meant the world to her. “Thanks. At this point, I don’t know what I need, what he plans to do. I got the impression that he discovered the letter from Olivia when he got home from an overseas tour, tore off to confront her, found out she’d been killed and that I had custody of the baby, and raced out here without really thinking about what he planned to do when he finally came face-to-face with the child that he believes is his own.”

“Poor man,” Ashley murmured sympathetically. Then her gaze flew to Paige’s. “Not that I’m taking his side. Of course not. I just can’t help thinking that the news must have thrown him for a loop.”

“You mean like when Paige found out she’d been named Emma’s legal guardian?” Megan asked her sister.

Ashley nodded. “But at least Paige knew the baby existed. This guy didn’t even know he’d had a child.”

“If she’s even his baby,” Paige felt compelled to interject.

“You don’t think he is Emma’s father?”

“I don’t know what to think, why Olivia never told anyone about him. Any time I tried to get information about her child’s father, she stonewalled me. And yet, if I believe him, if I believe she wrote the letter he showed me, then she had a change of heart and decided to tell him about the child. She wanted him to be a part of her daughter’s life.”

“What do you want?” Ashley asked gently.

“I want him to have a change of heart—to have woken up this morning and, in the light of day, realize that he’s not ready to take on the responsibility of being a father and just disappear as unexpectedly as he appeared.”

But she knew it wasn’t going to happen.

A fact that was confirmed when Zach’s SUV pulled into the driveway while she was saying goodbye to Ashley and Maddie a few minutes later.

Ashley paused on the step, obviously wanting to hang around and meet him. But Maddie tugged on her hand, a silent reminder that they both had to get to school, and with a last wave, she was gone.

Unfortunately, Megan was still inside. But Paige had invited Zach to come by, so she gestured for him to follow her into the house.

As she was introducing Zach and Megan, she heard the soft slap of the baby’s hands on the ceramic tile floor as she crawled toward the sound of familiar voices. When she rounded the corner and spotted Paige, those big blue eyes lit up and her mouth curved in a wide smile.

Beside her, she heard Zach’s breath catch.

Emma heard it, too, because she looked over at him, then actually scooted back a step. And the little girl, whose exposure to the male species had been limited and who had certainly never met anyone as big and imposing as the man in front of her now, started to cry.

Paige wanted to scoop the child into her arms, to hold her and hug her and promise her that the big scary man would go away and everything was going to be okay. But it was a promise she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep, so she stood motionless, helpless, while Zach squatted beside the teary child.

He murmured softly to her, so softly that Paige couldn’t hear the words that were said. But despite the soothing tone, Emma turned away, tears tracking down her cheeks as she crawled over to where Paige was standing. Grabbing hold of her pant leg, she pulled herself up and hung on, peeking at the stranger from behind the shelter of Paige’s leg.

Zach stood, too, and sighed wearily.

“She’s a little wary of strangers,” Paige told him.

She expected he would again claim that he was her father, but he seemed to understand that even if that was true, he was also a stranger.

“But she warms up quickly,” Megan interjected, as if to reassure Zach. Then she ruffled Emma’s soft curls. “Don’t you, Em?”

The little girl looked up at her and smiled shyly. Then, apparently bored with the adult conversation, she dropped down to the floor again and crawled back to the living room.

“I want to get the paternity test done as soon as possible,” Zach told Paige.

“All right,” she agreed, biting back a more elaborate retort that would have let him know in clear terms that what she wanted was for him to descend into the fiery underworld.

Megan sent her a look that warned her cousin that she knew what evil thoughts were lurking in her mind, then she turned to Zach and asked, “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“I had originally planned to fly out to California tomorrow, but finding out about Emma changed those plans.”

“Having the responsibility of a child changes everything,” Paige felt compelled to point out.

He nodded. “That’s why I’ve decided to stay in Pinehurst until we’ve established Emma’s paternity.”

He planned to stay in Pinehurst?

Oh, this is not good, Paige thought.

At the same time, Megan said, “That’s great.”

Paige frowned at her, but her cousin refused to meet her gaze.

“Because caring for Emma has been a big responsibility for Paige to tackle on her own,” Megan continued.

“I’ll gladly help in any way that I can,” Zach said.

Paige didn’t need or want his help and the steely-eyed glare she sent in his direction told him so. But he wasn’t looking at her but at Megan, who rewarded his evident compliance with a smile.

“And it would probably help ease Emma’s shyness if she got used to seeing you around,” she continued. “She’s in the living room playing, if you wanted to hang out in there.”

“Do you mind?” he asked Paige, as if her opinion actually mattered.

She forced a smile through gritted teeth. “No. Go ahead.”

Paige waited until Zach had left the room to turn to her cousin. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What I just did was ensure that Zach Crawford will see firsthand how good you are with Emma, how much she’s bonded with you, and realize how difficult it would be for her if he tries to take her away,” Megan said.

“So I’m supposed to believe that you did this for me?”

“You know that Ashley and I love that baby, too. Maybe not the way you do, but none of us want to see you lose her.”

“Yet you just invited the enemy to essentially set up camp here.”

“It’s not as if you could force him to leave town before he’s ready, and this paves the way for a cooperative, rather than an adversarial, relationship,” Megan said reasonably.

“If he is Emma’s father, he could take her away from me, so forgive me for not wanting to cooperate with him.”

Megan sighed. “You are one of the most rational people I know, but you’re being completely irrational about this.”

Paige knew it was true, but she wasn’t quite sure how to explain it.

“Something about him just sets off my radar,” she finally admitted.

Her cousin’s eyebrows lifted. “Your I-don’t-trust-this-guy radar? Or your I-don’t-trust-myself-around-this-guy radar?”

Paige frowned.

“Because I may be happily married and eleven months pregnant—” she glanced down at her enormous belly “—but even I couldn’t miss the fact that Zach Crawford is seriously hot.”

“He’s a lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force.”

“Which, for a lot of women, would only further enhance his appeal. Yummy good looks, perfectly sculpted body, strong moral character and dedication to his country.”

“None of which qualifies him to assume the care of a fourteen-month-old baby, even if she is his daughter.”

Megan nodded slowly. “Now I get it.”

“What do you get?” Paige asked warily.

“That this isn’t about Zach at all.”

“It’s about Emma.”

“Maybe,” her cousin acknowledged. “And maybe it’s about the fact that Colonel Phillip Wilder was a respected military leader but a complete screwup as a father.”

“It’s about Emma,” Paige insisted.

And although there was no disputing that Paige was genuinely concerned about the child’s well-being, it was obvious to both of them that there were more issues to be dealt with than the custody of one little girl.

Zach stayed through the morning, just hanging around while Emma played. Sometimes Emma approached Paige, wanting her help with some task or another, and although she cast frequent curious glances in Zach’s direction, the little girl kept a careful distance between herself and the stranger.

To his credit, Zach didn’t push to engage her in play or conversation and he didn’t hover. He just stayed in the background, silently observing. Paige knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help feeling that her every word and her every action were being monitored by the man who claimed to be the little girl’s father.

When it was time for Emma’s lunch, she felt compelled to offer to feed him, too. And he responded with such genuine appreciation, she felt guilty for making the offer so begrudgingly.

They munched on sandwiches while Emma tackled cooked noodles and vegetables with her six teeth.

“She’ll go down for a nap after lunch,” Paige told him, as she cleared their plates away.

Hint, hint.

“I guess that’s my cue to head out,” he said.

“I try to use the time when she’s asleep to catch up on e-mail and other business matters.”

“I thought you were on vacation.”

She shook her head. “I’m actually on a leave of absence right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t realize the firm frowned upon an attorney giving closing arguments in a trial with a baby strapped to her chest in a Snugli.” Not so long ago, she would have been horrified by the thought of putting a baby carrier on over one of her favorite Armani jackets, but almost six months with Emma had changed her perspective—and her priorities.

His lips curved. “Did you really?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she explained. “The day before, when I picked Emma up from Annabelle’s—that’s her sitter—she warned me that one of the other kids she looks after had been throwing up. So I kept an eye on Emma for any signs of lethargy or fever, but she was fine. Unfortunately, though, Annabelle caught the bug and she called at six o’clock the next morning to tell me that she wouldn’t be able to take Emma that day.”

“This is six o’clock the same morning that you’re due in court?”

Paige nodded. “And I didn’t have a backup plan. Nothing like this had ever happened before. And because no one was available to watch Emma while I went to court, I took her with me.”

“What did the judge think of that?”

“Both the judge and opposing counsel were understanding, and Emma slept through the whole process. Which, by the way, ended with my client maintaining custody of her four kids and her degenerate ex-husband’s access being restricted and subject to supervision.”

“So what was the problem?” Zach wondered.

“The problem came when Emma let it be known that she wasn’t quite so happy at the office,” Paige told him. “And it wasn’t as if I intended to move her playpen beside my desk—I just went in to ask Rebecca to reschedule my appointments and to pick up some files so that I could work at home. But Carson Wainwright was meeting with the CEO of one of our biggest clients, who happens to be the doting grandfather of seven grandkids and who couldn’t help but be drawn away from their meeting in the conference room by the sound of Emma’s crying.”

“And that didn’t go over well with Mr. Wainwright,” he guessed.

“Right again,” Paige agreed. “Of course, he didn’t say anything at the time, but while the CEO was busy cooing over the baby, he was shooting daggers at me across the room. And when Emma was back at Annabelle’s the next morning and I returned to my office, I was summoned into a meeting with all three of the senior partners, who suggested that I needed to rethink my priorities if I expected to have a future at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne.”

“They threatened to fire you?” Zach sounded as stunned as she had been.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Paige admitted. “Owen Wynne immediately jumped up, urging everyone not to be too hasty, and suggested that I should take some time to think things through.

“So that’s where I am—trying to figure out whether I can successfully juggle my professional obligations and personal responsibilities—or if I want to.”

“You mean you might leave Wainwright, Winter and … Whatever?”

Her lips curved, just a little. “Wainwright, Witmer and Wynne. And I haven’t made any final decisions yet.”

She lifted a sleepy Emma out of her high chair. He stood up.

“Speaking of decisions, you never said when or where we should have the paternity testing done.”

Emma rubbed her face against Paige’s shoulder.

“I’ve used PDA Labs before,” she told him.

At the lift of his brows, she felt her cheeks flush. “I’m an attorney,” she reminded him. “I’ve had to deal with this issue for several of my clients.”

“So how does it work?”

“We find a doctor to conduct the test, then contact the lab to have them courier a kit to the doctor. Then it’s just a swab of the inside of Emma’s cheek and yours and waiting for the results.”

“Do you know any doctors in town?”

“Cameron Turcotte, my cousin Ashley’s husband, is a doctor.”

He nodded. “How soon can we get it done?”

“I’ll call him and the lab this afternoon.”

He must have sensed her reluctance, because he said, “I would think you’d be as anxious as I am to have the matter of Emma’s paternity settled once and for all.”

Anxious didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling. Her emotions were too intense and conflicted to be so simply categorized.

She felt helpless and scared, but she was also determined. Even if Zach was Emma’s father, Paige didn’t intend to quietly slip out of the little girl’s life. No, she would make sure that any decisions made about the future were made not on the basis of DNA but considering what was best for Emma.

“Except that establishing paternity may only be the beginning,” she warned.

Chapter Four

Zach thought about Paige’s words as he drove back to his room at Hadfield House.

She was right, of course. Confirming Emma’s paternity was only a first step, but neither one of them could really move forward with their plans until that first step had been taken.

Of course, at this point, he really didn’t know what his plans would be, how he could fit a child into his life, but he knew that he would find a way. Because, while Paige insisted that a paternity test was needed to prove that he was Emma’s father, he’d agreed solely to appease her. He didn’t need a cheek swab to confirm what he already knew—Olivia’s little girl was his daughter. And he had no intention of walking away from the child or the responsibilities that being a father entailed.

Maybe he and Olivia hadn’t known everything about one another, but she had to have known that. Although they’d only been dating for a few weeks, they’d spent a lot of time together during that period.

When he’d first read her letter, and her claim that he’d fathered a child, his first instinct had been to deny the possibility. He had never been careless about birth control and he certainly hadn’t been with Olivia. But even as he’d recalled that fact to reassure himself, he’d heard the echo of his father’s voice in the back of his mind: the only birth control that is one-hundred-percent effective is abstinence. If you’re going to play, be prepared to pay.

He’d heard that same warning too many times to count during his teenage years and, although he hadn’t always abstained, he’d always been careful.

Obviously not careful enough.

Okay, so finding out about Emma had definitely been a surprise, but he would never say that she was an accident or a mistake. He believed that everything that happened in life happened for a reason, even if the reason wasn’t readily apparent. He certainly couldn’t fathom any noble purpose for the accident that had not only ended Olivia’s life tragically and prematurely but had also left an innocent child without her mother.

But even after her death, Olivia had ensured that her daughter was taken care of, and although he might wonder why she’d chosen to name Paige Wilder as Emma’s legal guardian, he couldn’t fault her choice. Because what he’d seen in the young attorney’s interactions with the child was a woman who was both attentive and affectionate, who anticipated and responded to the child’s every need. And a woman who had no intention of accepting that he was Emma’s father until he’d jumped through all kinds of hoops.

Well, he would show her that he was more than ready to jump through those hoops and take responsibility for his child. And if he had to spend time in Paige’s company in the process, well, he didn’t think that was going to be much of a hardship.

Zach came back the next morning, and the morning after that. He wasn’t obtrusive and he didn’t get in her way, but Paige was all too aware of his presence, of his eyes following her every move, of her own response to him.

She was attracted to him. It was pointless to deny that fact when every nerve ending in her body fairly hummed whenever he was near. It was even more pointless to think that anything could ever come of that attraction when their goals were so diametrically opposed. He wanted to be Emma’s father and she had no intention of letting him take the little girl away from her.

Megan had given her the name of a friend who worked at PDA Labs, and she’d contacted Walter Neville directly to inquire about the DNA testing. He’d promised to send a test kit to Dr. Turcotte’s office right away and assured her that he would give the package priority when it was returned to the lab. He was so willing and helpful that Paige didn’t know how to tell him that she didn’t want the package to be given priority, that she would actually prefer if it disappeared into a crack somewhere in the lab.

She did tell Zach that Cameron would let her know when the package was received so that they could go in for the test. He seemed satisfied with that information, but she knew that he was eager to have the question of paternity settled.

On the fourth day after Zach’s arrival in town, he called in the morning to tell her that he had some errands to run but would stop by after lunch to spend some time with Emma then. But when Paige opened the door after she’d settled the little girl down for her nap, she found Megan on the porch instead.

“This is a surprise,” she said, stepping away from the door so her cousin could enter.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Megan said, waddling in. “I was up a few times in the night with a backache and Gage was threatening to cancel a meeting today to stay home with me, but I told him I would spend the afternoon with you so he didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Paige assured her. “In fact, I’m grateful for the company.” And for the buffer that her cousin’s presence would provide when Zach showed up later.

“Is that coffee I smell?” Megan was already moving toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, but I thought you gave it up for your pregnancy.”

“I did, aside from half a cup in the morning,” her cousin agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t drink in the luscious scent.”

Paige smiled. “I can make you a cup of tea.”

“That would be great.” Megan eased herself onto one of the stools at the breakfast counter while Paige filled the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. “Where’s Em?”

“Sleeping.”

“Which means I’m intruding on the only quiet time you have during the day.”

“Sometimes it’s too quiet,” Paige said.

“Has Zach been here already today?”

She shook her head. “He said he wanted to come this afternoon, to go with Emma and I on our daily trek to the park.”

“I know you’re not thrilled with him hanging around,” Megan said, “but you have to applaud his effort. The man is definitely trying.”

“I know he is,” Paige admitted. “And Emma is starting to warm up to him. Yesterday she threw a block at his head.”

Megan’s brows lifted. “That’s warming up?”

“Before that, she completely ignored him.”

“Then I guess that’s warming up,” her cousin agreed.

“But enough about Zach,” Paige said, wanting to talk about anything but the man who seemed to occupy far too many of her thoughts already. “Tell me about this backache that had you up in the night.”

Megan shrugged. “I’ve had twinges for a few days. Which probably isn’t surprising, considering that I’m hauling around an extra twenty-four pounds and I’m three days past my due date.”

Paige smiled as she turned off the kettle and poured water into a mug. Her cousin’s obvious disgruntlement confirmed that she’d expected her baby to pop out precisely on schedule and was none too pleased with the delay. She set a box of lemon cookies in front of the expectant mother along with the tea.

“Didn’t I just say that I’ve put on twenty-four pounds?” Megan demanded, but she was already opening the box.

“You did,” Paige agreed. “But I happen to know that those are the baby’s favorites.”

“Which probably explains twenty-two of those pounds,” her cousin mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

They chatted and ate cookies while Megan drank her tea and looked longingly at Paige’s cup of coffee. But before her tea was finished, Megan slid off the stool.

“Are you okay?” Paige asked.

Megan shrugged. “I can’t sit for too long, or stand for too long, or do anything without feeling restless and … oh.”

Paige was immediately on her feet and beside her cousin. “Meg—what’s wrong?”

The other woman’s face was pale, her eyes wide. Paige wasn’t sure how it was possible, but her cousin somehow looked both excited … and terrified.

“I think … my water … just broke.”

“Ohmygod.”

Megan just nodded.

Paige’s brain scrambled. She’d been through this before, when Olivia had gone into labor with Emma, but at the moment she couldn’t remember what to say or do. “Okay. Um. What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know about you,” Megan said, sounding fairly calm, “but I’m going to call Gage.”

“Oh. Right. Good idea.” Paige turned to reach for the phone on the counter but stopped when Megan grabbed her arm, hard. “Contraction?”

Her cousin nodded.

“Are you breathing?”

Megan nodded again.

And then, as if Paige wasn’t already frazzled enough, the doorbell rang.

She handed the phone to Megan before she went to answer the door.

“Oh, Zach. I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time.”

“But I called this morning and you said—”

“This morning my cousin wasn’t standing in my kitchen in the beginning stages of labor,” she told him. “But now I have to get Emma up from her nap so we can take Megan to the hospital—”

“Or I could stay with her,” Zach offered.

“With Megan?”

He smiled, and even in the midst of all the chaos and confusion, her heart gave a giddy leap. “With Emma.”

“Oh, of course.” But she hesitated.

He was offering an obvious and easy solution. But her brain was still scrambling, and while her hormones were urging her to take whatever this man was offering, she wasn’t quite ready to trust him alone with the little girl who had been entrusted to her care—even if he was Emma’s father.

“Paige!”

She whirled away from the door, summoned by her cousin’s impatient demand.

Zach stepped into the foyer behind her. Holding back a sigh of frustration, Paige chose to ignore him and focus on Megan.

“Gage said he’ll meet us at the hospital, but he’s going to be a while.”

Knowing how devoted her cousin’s husband was to his wife and how excited they both were about the baby, Paige was more than a little surprised by this response.

“He’s in Manhattan,” Megan explained.

“Manhattan?”

Megan nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “He’s supposed to be here.”

“He will be here,” Paige promised, almost certain it was true. After all, it was only a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Manhattan, and Megan would undoubtedly be in labor a lot longer than that. “But in the meantime, we should get you to the hospital.”

“I need my bag.”

“I can get your bag after I get you to the hospital.”

“I need to take my bag to the hospital,” Megan insisted.

Paige knew her cousin’s insistence wasn’t as much about the bag as it was about the fact that Megan didn’t want to go to the hospital without Gage, because she didn’t want to have her baby without the baby’s father by her side. So Paige took her hands and squeezed gently.

When Megan looked up, Paige simply said, “Breathe.”

Megan drew in a lungful of air, then exhaled it slowly.

“Better?”

The mother-to-be nodded. “But I still want my bag.”

“Honey, your house is in the opposite direction from the hospital.”

“I could take Megan to the hospital and you can go pick up her bag when Emma wakes up from her nap.”

Until he spoke, Paige had almost forgotten Zach was there. Or maybe she hadn’t actually forgotten so much as she’d wished she could forget. In any event, she was as protective of her cousin as she was of Emma, and she had no intention of letting him intrude on her life any more than he already had.

“That’s not necessary—” she began, only to be interrupted by Megan’s hopeful request, “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Zach assured her.

“I’m leaking,” the laboring mother-to-be warned.

To his credit, Zach paled only a little, and his response was a casual, “Leather seats.”

“Thank you.” Megan turned back to Paige. “My bag’s beside the door in the nursery. You have a key and the code for the alarm?”

“Yes, but—”

“Great.”

“It’s not great,” she felt compelled to protest, but her cousin was already hustling—as much as she could hustle in her current condition—down the driveway toward Zach’s Jeep, leaving Paige to stare after their retreating forms.

Through the baby monitor, she heard Emma stirring in her crib, and she pushed aside her annoyance and frustration to focus on the baby. Once she’d dealt with the waking child’s immediate needs, she’d go get Megan’s damn bag.

When Paige arrived at the hospital about an hour later, Megan still hadn’t been admitted. Instead, she was pacing the waiting room with Zach beside her. Paige’s pulse jolted when she saw him. He wasn’t the first man whose appearance had affected her in such a way, but it was more than his dark good looks and long, hard body that made her belly quiver this time. It was the realization that a man so big and strong could be so gentle, as he was being with Megan right now.

She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she saw her cousin smile in response to something he said. The smile slipped and she reached toward the wall to brace herself as another contraction hit. But Zach was right there, taking her hand, talking her through the pain.

Paige paused in the doorway—caught for a moment in the memory of doing the same things during her friend’s labor, of keeping Olivia focused on her breathing while trying to distract her from the pain and silently cursing the man who had impregnated and then abandoned her friend.

Watching Zach with Megan, she was struck by the contradiction between what Olivia had told her about the baby’s father and what—after only a few days—she knew about the man who was Zach Crawford. And she couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been for Olivia and Emma if he’d known about the pregnancy.

If Zach was Emma’s father.

She shifted the still-sleepy baby to her other shoulder and acknowledged that even she was getting weary of her incessant protests about something everyone else seemed willing to accept as fact. Maybe she was being difficult. Maybe she was stubborn. But she wasn’t ready or willing to simply let Zach step into the role of Emma’s father without any concrete proof. She wasn’t ready to lose the little girl she loved with her whole heart.

Gage arrived at the hospital only a short while after Paige, causing her to speculate that he’d either been on his way back from Manhattan already when Megan called him or he’d challenged land-speed records in his haste to get to his wife’s side. In any event, Megan had finally been admitted, Gage’s parents had shown up and Ashley had come by after school with Maddie.

Paige hovered in the background, reading some of Emma’s favorite books to her and observing the scene. This part was unfamiliar to her. With Olivia, things had been mostly quiet and low-key—her friend had told no one but Paige when she’d gone into labor. She’d had no family hovering in the wings and no visitors had shown up until the day after Emma’s birth. Of course, Paige hadn’t thought too much about it at the time because she hadn’t had anything to compare it to, but now that she did, she couldn’t help but feel both sad and sorry that her friend had been so alone.

She smiled at Cameron when he came in to give his sister-in-law a quick pep talk and a hug before taking his daughter—despite her vehement protests and heartfelt pleas to stay until her new baby cousin was born—to her grandparents’ house. Ashley stayed, almost as excited about the impending arrival of her niece or nephew as she was about the birth of her own baby due in another couple of months.

Because the waiting room was still rather crowded and Megan was pacing the halls and didn’t seem as if she was going to have the baby anytime soon, Paige decided to take Emma down to the cafeteria for a snack.

Although she hadn’t invited him to come along, Zach followed them into the elevator and, after he’d been so great with Megan, Paige couldn’t bring herself to tell him to get lost. And even if she did, he probably wouldn’t listen to her anyway.

Of course, he then insisted on paying for their coffee and Emma’s snack, which made her feel even guiltier for wanting to ditch him. But when they were settled at a table and Emma was happily squeezing cubes of red Jell-O in her fists—and occasionally stuffing one into her mouth—she had to ask, “Why are you still here, Zach?”

He shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“The whole process, I guess. I never had a chance to experience any of the stages of pregnancy or childbirth with Olivia because I never even knew that she was pregnant.”

“And if you had known, you still would have been in Afghanistan while she was having your baby in Syracuse.”

“I could have asked for leave.”

“But there’s no guarantee you would have got it, is there?”

“No,” he admitted, sounding so genuinely regretful, Paige felt her heart softening toward him.

“She was in labor nineteen hours,” she told him.

Zach’s head swiveled toward her. “That’s right—you were her birthing partner.”

She nodded. “I was surprised she chose me. I mean, we’d become pretty good friends at law school and were both pleased when we got hired on at Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne, but I thought there must have been someone else she was closer to.”

“She was an only child born late in the lives of both of her parents,” Zach remembered. “And she lost them both the year after she graduated.”

Paige nodded again and wondered why she was surprised that he knew those details. Obviously he and Olivia had engaged in conversation and sex—which was definitely not a path she wanted her mind to be wandering down, because just thinking of Zach and sex in the same sentence made her blood heat and her pulse race.

The attraction she felt for him was purely physical—and not entirely unexpected, considering how long it had been since she’d been with any man and that she’d never known a man who oozed testosterone the way Zach Crawford did. She also knew her feelings were wrong—and self-destructive. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn’t give her any more control over them, but it did help her refocus her attention on their conversation.

“I was hesitant at first,” Paige said, referring to the childbirth classes she’d attended with Olivia. “Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I was terrified that I would screw up or somehow let her down. But I finally agreed.

“Every week on our way to class, she would thank me again, telling me how grateful she was for my support, as if I was doing her this huge favor.”

“To her, you were.”

“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But I realized, as her pregnancy progressed and the date of Emma’s birth drew nearer, that I was the one who was grateful. Because the whole process of growing a baby really is a miracle and I was thrilled to share in it.”

“Did Olivia know she was having a girl?”

“Yeah. She didn’t like surprises, and she was determined to know the baby’s gender so that she would be better prepared for her arrival.”

Zach finished his coffee. “Was she happy?”

“She was thrilled,” Paige said. “I’m not sure that was true in the very beginning. As far as I know, she struggled through the early stages of oh-my-God-I’m-pregnant-what-do-I-do-now? on her own. She didn’t even tell me until she was through her first trimester, and then it was a very matter-of-fact ‘I’m pregnant. Yes, I’m keeping the baby. No, the father isn’t going to be involved, and will you go to prenatal classes with me?’”

“I’m glad that she didn’t seem to have any doubts about having the baby—if a little surprised,” he admitted. “She seemed so completely focused on her career. During the time that we were together, she certainly never said anything to me—she never even hinted—about wanting a baby.”

“I don’t think she had thought about it, not until she realized she was pregnant. But she was a wonderful mother.” Tears stung her eyes as she thought about Olivia with Emma, how much her friend had loved her baby and everything Emma had lost when she’d lost her mother. “She was so patient with the baby. Sure, she got overwhelmed and frazzled on occasion, but she never took it out on Emma. She simply and completely loved her little girl.”

“Tell me about when Emma was born,” he said.

“You really want the details?”

“Yeah.”

Paige shrugged. “Her water broke at three o’clock in the morning, so she knew that labor would be starting soon, but she figured she had time to shower and shave her legs first—as if the ob-gyn cared about her razor stubble.”

“I can see Olivia worrying about something like that,” Zach said and smiled.

“Yeah, well, she took a chunk of skin off her ankle bone because she had the razor in her hand when the first contraction hit.”

He winced. “Ouch.”

“And that was only the beginning.”

“When did she call you?”

She thought back, trying to remember. So many details of that day were permanently etched on her memory. Others were less clear. “It was around four, I think. She’d managed to finish her shower and dry her hair and get dressed, but the contractions were coming every fifteen minutes or so, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to drive herself to the hospital.”

“Which proves that she’d considered it,” he noted.

Paige nodded. “Thankfully, I only lived a few blocks away, so we were at the hospital before five. Of course, her doctor didn’t show up until seven, and even then, he wasn’t ready to admit her because the labor hadn’t progressed very far.

“Anyway, long story short, Emma was born just after ten p.m. that night.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you skipped over a lot of stuff?”

“Because I didn’t think you wanted to hear about the contractions stalling and the baby being in distress and finally being delivered by emergency C-section.”

Nor did she want to think about those complications—and the accompanying terror—while Megan was in labor. Of course, she was confident her cousin could handle just about anything. Because from the minute she’d learned that she was pregnant, Megan had been reading everything she could find on pregnancy and labor and childbirth. In fact, Paige wouldn’t be surprised if the mother-to-be couldn’t teach the doctor a thing or two.

Still, Paige would feel a lot better once the baby was actually born. Because although it was true that women had been having babies since the beginning of time, it was also true that even with all of the progress in modern medicine, there were still occasions when things went wrong. And although Paige knew it was both silly and futile, she crossed her fingers under the table, hoping that nothing would go wrong for Megan or her baby.

“Yeah,” Zach finally responded to her comment. “It’s hard enough to think about how differently things could have turned out fourteen months after the fact. I can’t imagine what she—and you—went through at the time.”

“Olivia was a trooper throughout the whole thing,” she told him. “But when they finally pulled the baby out, we both cried right along with Emma.”

“Thank you,” Zach said softly.

Paige looked over at him, surprised. “For what?”

“For telling me,” he said. “But especially for being there, for Olivia and Emma.”

“It was my pleasure—and an absolute thrill to hold Emma in my arms when she was only minutes old.” She glanced at Zach again and felt an unexpected twinge of guilt, as if she’d stolen an experience that should have been his. But then she remembered the point she’d made earlier—that even if he had known about Olivia’s pregnancy and wanted to be there for the birth, things might not have played out any differently.

Except that there would have been no question about the baby’s custody when Olivia died. Or maybe the accident never would have happened, because Olivia wouldn’t have driven to New Jersey to tell Zach about the baby because he would already have known. But it was pointless to play “what if” at this stage. All they could do now was move forward, even if neither of them knew exactly what direction was forward.

Emma wriggled, trying to get out of the high chair, just wanting to move. Cubes of Jell-O were scattered on the tray and on the floor, but clearly she’d had enough of her snack and was ready to escape her confinement. Paige glanced at her watch and frowned. “I can’t keep her here all night.”

“I could—” Zach began, then snapped his jaw shut.

She sighed. “I know I’m being unreasonable. I just can’t seem to stop myself.”

“And I don’t know what to say or do to reassure you that I’m not going to disappear with her.”

Paige put her empty cup on the tray beside his. She didn’t know if it was the eagerness with which he’d listened to the story of Emma’s birth or the attentiveness she’d observed in his interaction with the child, but she decided that it was time—maybe past time—to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Would you trust me with your Jeep?” she asked him.

His brows rose. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”

She responded by digging her car keys out of her purse. “Leave me yours and you can have mine to take Emma back to my place. It’s easier than trying to move her car seat,” she explained, then couldn’t resist adding, “That and I have antitheft tracking, so if you take off with the baby, the cops won’t have any trouble finding you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said drily, as he unhooked the tray from the high chair.

Desperate for freedom, Emma flung herself forward. Paige had a flash of panic as she remembered that she hadn’t fastened the grimy safety strap around the little girl’s waist, but Zach—obviously having anticipated the move—blocked her easily with a hand.

Emma frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but before she could make a sound, Zach had deftly plucked her from the seat and set her on her feet. She looked up at him, grateful but still wary, and took a few tottering steps toward Paige.

“Pawk?” she said hopefully.

It was her new favorite word and her favorite place. There was a small park at the end of the block where they lived in Syracuse and a bigger park even closer to the house on Chetwood Street, and Paige had gotten in the habit of taking Emma there after her nap. The little girl had been most displeased to be going in the car instead of to the park when she woke up today and clearly hadn’t forgotten.

“You’re going to go home with Zach,” Paige told her.

Emma stole a cautious glance in his direction, then shook her head. “Pawk,” she said again.

“I can’t today,” Paige said.

“But I can,” Zach said.

Emma stole another glance at him, but continued to cling to Paige.

“What’s your favorite thing at the park?” he asked. “The swings or the slide?”

Emma seemed to get what he was saying and her love of the park apparently outweighed her lingering uncertainty about this new man who had suddenly appeared in her life, because she looked right at him this time and said, “Pawk?”

He nodded.

Emma released her hold on Paige and held out her arms to Zach.

Chapter Five

When Paige returned to the maternity-wing waiting room, she found that Gage’s brother, Craig, and his wife, Tess, had joined the party. There were also two other, older couples, who she figured were the prospective grandparents of some other baby.

She slid into the vacant chair next to the sofa where Ashley sat close to her husband. Her head was on his shoulder, and his hand was on the curve of her belly. The baby must have kicked because Cam’s hand snapped back and Ashley laughed.

“You’d think I’d be used to that by now,” he murmured.

“You’d think,” Ashley agreed.

Paige felt an unexpected pang of envy as she watched them interact. She couldn’t be happier for both of her cousins, even if she’d never thought she wanted what they had. For certain, she’d been shocked and panicked when she’d learned that she had been named Emma’s legal guardian. And in that moment, she’d been certain that she did not want the responsibility of an infant.

Of course, her feelings had soon changed. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without Emma and she refused to worry what Zach’s presence could mean for the status quo she’d established with Olivia’s baby, or what it could mean to the idea that had only recently begun to take root in her mind and her heart of someday having a baby of her own—a brother or a sister for Emma.

Ashley looked over at her. “Where’s Emma?”

“She went home with Zach.” She glanced at her cousin for reassurance. “Please tell me I haven’t made a very big mistake.”

“You haven’t made a very big mistake,” Ashley said obligingly.

The words did little to alleviate her concerns. She chewed on the edge of a thumbnail, as she sometimes did when she was worried, but she didn’t realize she was doing it until Ashley gently tugged her hand away from her mouth.

“He hasn’t been alone with her before,” she said, trying to explain the origin of her concern.

“Then it’s probably time he was.”

“She’s going to be wanting dinner soon,” she suddenly realized. “And I didn’t tell him what to feed her.”

“I’m sure he’ll manage,” Cam told her.

But Paige wasn’t nearly as certain.

“Do you remember the first time you babysat Emma?” Ashley asked her.

She nodded. “I didn’t have a clue.”

“And Emma couldn’t say a word to tell you if she was hungry or thirsty or tired.”

“She doesn’t say much now,” Paige noted.

“Well, Zach looks to me like a man who’s capable of figuring things out. But if you’re really not comfortable with the situation, why don’t you go home, too?”

“Because I want to be here when Megan’s baby is born.”

“Well, if you’re determined to stay, then stop chewing your nails. You’re making me nervous.”

She flushed and pulled her hand away from her mouth again.

Baby steps, Zach reminded himself as he sat Emma on top of the toddler slide.

He had to be patient, to give both Paige and Emma time to get to know him and feel comfortable with him. Unfortunately, that might take more time than he had.

His heart had torn wide open the first time Emma looked at him and started to cry. As ridiculous as he knew it was, he felt as if she’d rejected him. Just the latest in a string of women who had done so.

Heather was the first. Of course, he’d been a lot younger then and his emotions much more vulnerable. She’d been a model, stunningly beautiful, and he’d been blinded by lust. They’d dated for almost two years, and she’d seemed happy enough to be with him so long as he worked around her schedule. She’d even told him that she loved him. But when Zach got his first overseas assignment and their relationship was no longer convenient, she’d unceremoniously dumped him.

The first heartbreak had been as bitter as first love had been sweet, and losing Heather had taught him a valuable if painful lesson. Since then, he’d guarded his heart.

He’d had relationships with other women, of course, but because of his career, none were long-term or serious. His relationship with Olivia had been no different, despite the fact that a baby had been born of it. And yet it hurt to realize that Olivia had rejected him and any efforts he would have made to be a father to their baby by refusing to even tell him about her pregnancy.

Yeah, she’d changed her mind—too many months later—but that knowledge failed to appease him. And although he knew it served no purpose, he couldn’t deny that he was angry with Olivia—furious at the way she’d first cut him out and then blindsided him with the information that he was a father.

Emma slid down the gentle slope, her face split with a wide grin, her blue eyes sparkling. When she giggled it was the purest and happiest sound he’d ever heard. And in that moment, looking at the beautiful little girl Olivia had given birth to, all his residual anger was washed away by a tide of joy and love so huge it took his breath way.

He caught her at the bottom of the slide and it was only when she wriggled that he let her go. He wanted to gather her in his arms and lavish her with all the love and attention he hadn’t been able to give her in the first fourteen months of her life. Of course, he had to get past not just Emma’s uncertainty but Paige’s wary protectiveness first. Definitely not an easy task.

However, he’d never been one to shirk from a challenge.

Except when that challenge was a phone call from his youngest sister, he amended as the phone in his pocket trilled again and Zach ignored it again.

He’d never admit it to her face, but he missed her like crazy and, more than anything when he’d come home from Afghanistan, he’d been looking forward to going out to California and seeing not just Hayden but his whole family again. He hadn’t actually canceled those plans so much as he’d delayed them, and he didn’t want to delay for much longer.

Emma had an extended family who wanted to meet her.

Or they would, when he finally figured out how to tell them that he was a father.

It was past midnight before Paige finally left the hospital, and despite her pleasure at seeing both her cousin and the brand-new baby doing well, she felt tense and uncertain as she drove toward home. She didn’t realize it was worry over Emma that had lingered with her until she got close enough to the house to confirm that her car was in the driveway. She didn’t have to go much farther than that to find both Emma and Zach.

The baby was curled up on one end of the sofa, her favorite blanket clutched in one little fist, the thumb of the other hanging out of her mouth. Zach was on the floor, his back against the sofa. His legs were out straight, his head was tipped back, and one of his hands was resting protectively on the sleeping child’s back. At any other time, the peaceful scene might have warmed her heart, but she was too busy gaping at the chaos around them to fully appreciate the serene image of man and child.

She took another slow and careful survey of the room, stunned. Okay, so maybe she’d wondered how he would fare on his own with the little girl, and maybe she’d even hoped that Emma wouldn’t make things too easy for him. She hadn’t expected the living room to look as if a Category 4 hurricane had torn through it.

But that was exactly how it appeared to Paige, with toys and plastic bowls and sippy cups and clothes and diapers—she sent up a quick prayer that they were at least clean diapers—strewn absolutely everywhere.

She must have gasped because Zach was immediately awake and on his feet, every muscle in his body on alert. He was so tall, so strong, so completely and undeniably male that, for a split second, the disaster zone faded away and there was only Zach.

His eyes locked on her, the air crackled, her skin prickled. The intensity of her reaction—the unexpected force of the attraction she felt—startled her enough that she looked away, breaking the seductive spell of those blue, blue eyes and reminding her of the chaos she’d stepped into.

“What the heck happened?” she asked, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the sleeping child while she attempted to hold her churning hormones firmly in check.

He tore his gaze from hers to glance around and winced as if he was seeing the room for the first time. “Hurricane Emma,” he muttered.

His explanation was so close to what she’d been thinking that she might have smiled if the condition of her living room didn’t make her want to cry. Instead, she just shook her head. “I need a cup of coffee.”

“Wait—”

She paused in midstep. “You’re going to tell me that the kitchen is just as bad, aren’t you?”

“Probably worse,” he admitted.

“As long as I can find the coffeepot.”

Zach took hold of her shoulders to steer her away from the kitchen, and when his hands came down on her, she jolted as if she’d been zapped by a live wire. His hands dropped away. “Why don’t you take Emma up to her bed while I make the coffee?”

She decided it was probably good advice and, ignoring the tingles that coursed through her veins in response to his touch, turned back to the sleeping child in the living room.

By the time she’d returned to the kitchen after checking Emma’s diaper and tucking her into her crib, the coffeepot was gurgling away.

“Boy or girl?” he finally asked, passing a mug across the counter to her.

For the first time since walking into the disaster zone that had once been her house—at least for the summer—she smiled. “Boy,” she answered. “Marcus Allan Richmond—for both of Megan’s and Gage’s fathers. Eight pounds ten ounces, twenty-two inches with big blue eyes and gorgeous blond curls.”

“And how’s the new mommy doing?” Zach lifted his own mug to drink.

“She’s great. Amazing. Overjoyed. And Gage was so thrilled with both his wife and new baby, he actually cried.”

“I’ll bet you did, too,” he guessed.

“Just a little,” she admitted.

“When did all of this finally happen?”

“11:47.”

Zach glanced at his watch. “You obviously didn’t hang around for very long after.”

“Long enough to congratulate the new mommy and daddy and steal a quick cuddle with the baby. But they had more than enough company to keep them busy through half of the night.”

“And—despite the fact that you called four times from the hospital—you were worried about Emma,” he guessed.

“Obviously with good reason.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she was in complete control. If you were going to worry about anyone, it should have been me.”

She smiled again. “I do appreciate you staying with her,” she said, and realized it was true. “It would have been a nightmare trying to keep her entertained at the hospital all night.”

“Instead, you came home to a nightmare.”

She closed her eyes and held a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m trying not to think about that right now. Hopefully by morning I’ll have the energy to tackle the mess.”

“You look exhausted,” he noted. “Why don’t you head up to bed and I’ll load the dishes in the dishwasher before I head out?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You have to be at least as tired as I am.”

“I had a nap,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, you looked as if you were resting comfortably when I came in,” she noted drily.

“Believe me, your living-room floor is like a premium mattress in a five-star hotel compared to some of the places I’ve had to sleep.” Zach grinned and her heart hitched.

Honestly, the man’s smile was a potent weapon, and because Paige knew she was too weary to continue to fight, she opted for retreat. “Well, I’m looking forward to my real bed,” she said, taking her empty cup to the dishwasher.

“Go ahead,” Zach said. “I’ll lock up when I go.”

She hesitated, still not entirely sure she trusted him and yet all too aware that he’d given her no reason not to. And if he was willing to make a dent in the kitchen, she was certainly willing to let him. “If you’re sure,” she began.

“I’m sure. Good night, Paige.”

“Good night.”

Emma was, as usual, awake by six the next morning, which meant that Paige was, too. After changing the baby’s diaper, Paige tucked her against her hip and started down the stairs. When she stepped into the living room, she had a moment to wonder if she’d only dreamed the disaster she’d come home to the night before because the room was absolutely immaculate. Continuing on to the kitchen, she found that the same was true there.

She settled Emma in her high chair with a cup of juice and set about making a pot of coffee. Emma banged her sippy cup on the tray.

“Yes, I know you want breakfast,” she said soothingly, “but I need my caffeine kick in the morning.”

Emma banged her cup again but was somewhat appeased when Paige sprinkled a few Cheerios on her tray. She put the cereal box back in the cupboard and opened the fridge to retrieve the eggs and milk. When she closed the door again, the note tacked to it fluttered.

Please don’t call the police. I didn’t steal your car—I simply borrowed it to get to the B and B because you still have the keys to my Jeep. I’ll be back early in the a.m., but please call my cell (201-555-4757) if you need your car before then.

Zach

She set the eggs and milk on the counter before she retraced her steps to the living room, peering out the front window just in time to see her car pulling into the driveway beside the Jeep that was still parked there.

The driver’s side door of the Audi opened and Zach stepped out.

His blue eyes were shaded from the sun by dark glasses and he was casually dressed in a Just Do It T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and a pair of well-faded jeans that hugged his narrow hips. He truly was an exceptional specimen of masculinity and—judging by the speed with which Melanie Quinlan raced down her walk, practically dragging her Chihuahua behind her—she obviously wasn’t the only woman who thought so.

Though Paige couldn’t hear what Melanie said, she knew her neighbor had called out to Zach, because he turned to respond. But he didn’t chat with her for very long, since he was almost at the front door when Paige pulled it open.

Zach smiled and her pulse leaped.

“I’m not too early, then?” he said by way of greeting.

“No. Emma is an early bird.”

“And you’re not,” he guessed.

“I never used to be, but I’ve learned to adapt.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude on your morning,” he said, “but I wanted to get your car back before you needed it.”

“I was just going to make some eggs if you wanted to join us.”

“I didn’t come over here to be fed,” he protested, though not very vehemently.

“And if I wasn’t already planning on making breakfast, I wouldn’t have offered to feed you,” she told him.

“In that case, I’d love some eggs,” he replied, and followed her into the kitchen.

Emma’s face lit up when she saw him, and Zach’s heart melted. “Ack! “ she said, which was apparently her interpretation of his name and which she followed with her favorite word, “Pawk.”

He smiled and ruffled her hair. “Maybe later,” he told her, then, “Mmm, that coffee smells great.”

“You know where the mugs are,” Paige said. She dug his keys out of her purse and set them on the counter. “I completely forgot we’d switched vehicles last night.”

“Not a problem,” he assured her, reaching around her to open the cupboard door.

As he did, he caught a whiff of her scent. It was subtle, with just the slightest hint of vanilla, which made him think it was probably a lotion rather than perfume. Of course, that brought to mind images of Paige smoothing lotion over her naked skin, running her hands up her long legs, down her slender arms, over her—

“Scrambled?”

The question jolted Zach out of his fantasy. “What?”

“Your eggs.” She continued breaking them into a bowl. “Do you like them scrambled?”

“Sure,” he said and filled his mug from the pot.

She splashed some milk into the bowl with the eggs, added a dash of salt and pepper and picked up the whisk.

Zach sipped his coffee.

Paige poured the mixture into a frying pan. “Did you bring in a cleaning crew after I went up to bed last night?”

“Not necessary,” he said. “It looked a lot worse than it was.”

“Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical about that.”

He grinned. “Okay, it was pretty bad, but my mother taught me to always pick up after myself.”

“Well, it was a pleasant surprise to wake up this morning and not have to face the chaos I saw last night.”

“If you were impressed with a little tidying, you should see what I can do with a bed.”

The inadvertent innuendo cracked between them, sizzling in the air like the eggs in the pan.

Paige’s cheeks turned pink, confirming that she had taken the same mental detour he had. And he found himself wondering if her thoughts had drifted in that direction even half as often as his had. And if they had—if they were both feeling this tug of attraction—what the heck were they going to do about it?

Nothing. He answered his own question firmly. Definitively.

He cleared his throat. “I meant that I can make up a bed so tight that a quarter tossed down on the middle of the mattress will bounce six inches,” he explained.

Paige just nodded and kept her focus on the eggs in the pan, while he tried to block out the mental image of bouncing on a mattress with her. Because how completely inappropriate was that? And why did he, even knowing it was completely inappropriate, find the idea so damned appealing?

He pushed the thought out of his mind and asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

“You can butter the toast,” she said, just as it popped out of the toaster.

Zach was grateful for the task because it gave him something to do with his hands so that he couldn’t give in to the urge to reach for her and determine once and for all if the attraction he felt was mutual.

Unfortunately, the task didn’t keep his mind as occupied as his hands, and his thoughts continued to wander. And although he couldn’t deny that several of those thoughts touched upon plans for getting Paige naked, he found himself simply enjoying the morning routine. Working with Paige to put breakfast on the table, retrieving the sippy cup Emma kept throwing to the ground, dodging the bits of toast and egg that she threw at him, then helping Paige tidy up the kitchen again when they’d finished their meal.

Their conversation was easy—although they were both careful not to make any mention of Emma’s paternity—and he found himself relaxing in her company. Not that he was completely relaxed—how could he be when he was so keenly aware of her presence, her every movement and every breath?

No doubt about it—twenty-three months was a long time for a man to go without the pleasures of female companionship, yet he hadn’t been aware of how very long it had been, and he certainly hadn’t felt so acutely deprived until he met Paige. Which meant that he didn’t want sex as much as he wanted Paige.

And that, he knew, was a big complication.

After the kitchen was cleaned, Paige left Zach with another cup of coffee while she took Emma upstairs to get her washed up and changed. When they came back down again, he pushed away from the table.

“I have to check out of Hadfield House,” he said. “The clerk wasn’t at the desk when I left this morning.”

“You’re leaving?” Paige wasn’t sure why she was surprised or why his words caused something that felt like a pang of disappointment. After all, ever since he’d shown up at her door she’d been hoping he would turn around and leave again. But she’d started to get used to having him around; she’d started to believe he actually planned to stay. Of course, she should have realized that as soon as she began to count on someone, it was a cue for him to leave.

“Just leaving the B and B,” he told her. “When I first checked in, I didn’t know how long I would be staying and the clerk didn’t think to mention that they were booked for the holiday weekend.”

“So where are you going?”

“I’ll try one of the hotels in town.”

So he wasn’t leaving town after all, she realized, strangely relieved by that fact. Maybe he would turn out to be a man that she—that Emma, she hastily amended—could count on. Still, Paige hesitated a moment before she said, “There’s a spare room here.”

Zach paused with his hand on the door. “Are you just sharing information or offering to let me stay with you?”

She hadn’t intended to invite him to stay, but she felt guilty for attempting to thwart his every effort. Or maybe she felt that she owed him because he’d been so great with Megan the day before, not to mention that he’d cleaned up her house.

Yes, he’d been at least partially responsible for the mess in the first place, but his efforts were commendable. And he really did seem to want to get to know Emma and to be willing to take things slowly for the little girl’s sake, and Paige found that she couldn’t—in good conscience—continue to stand in his way.

Whatever her reasons, she simply shrugged, as if her offer wasn’t a big deal. “You seem intent on hanging around here most of the time anyway.”

“I’d be more than happy to get out of your hair, but you panic any time Emma is even out of your sight.”

She couldn’t deny it was true. “I don’t know you well enough to trust you yet,” she reminded him. “Maybe staying under the same roof will change that.”

“Then I’ll accept the offer,” he said. “Because I know you have no reason to want to help me and all kinds of reasons not to.”

“I’m doing it for Emma,” she said. “Because if it turns out that you are her father, I want her to have a relationship with you.”

“Do you really still doubt that I am?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what the DNA test reveals.”

“How long did you say it would take to get the results?”

“Because we’re using a private lab, probably not more than a week or ten days.”

“When did you say we can get it done?”

“Cameron said he can squeeze us in right after lunch on Monday.”

“That would be good,” Zach said.

For him, maybe. Paige would prefer to do the test … never. But that was an emotional and selfish response. This wasn’t about her and the potential repercussions for her life—it was about Emma, and she truly did want what was best for Olivia’s daughter.

“I’ll head over to the B and B now to settle up and be back here in about an hour. Then—” he glanced at Emma, who was sitting in an Elmo chair and turning the thick pages of a favorite book “—maybe I can take Emma to the p-a-r-k.”

Although Paige knew logically that a fourteen-month-old with a very limited vocabulary couldn’t possibly spell, she also knew that Emma had an unerring instinct about some things, which she proved when her head shot up in response to Zach’s comment. “Pawk?”

Zach’s brows lifted. Paige shrugged.

“Later,” he promised.

Later, when Zach and Emma had gone to the park, Ashley brought a plate of frosted brownies over to Paige.

“I had a craving,” she offered the explanation along with the squares.

“Thank you.” Paige’s mouth was already watering and her gratitude was sincere. “But how does your craving lead to me getting brownies?”

Ashley followed her into the kitchen. “Because I satisfied my craving, and because it will be something completely different that I have to have tomorrow, I thought I would share.”

Paige peeled back the plastic wrap and snuck a square out from under the cover.

“You could offer me a cup of tea in exchange for the goodies,” Ashley suggested, settling at the table.

“Oh. My.” Paige’s eyes closed as she bit into the chocolate and pure bliss exploded on her tongue. “All you want is a cup of tea? I’d be willing to give up one of my kidneys for chocolate this good.”

Ashley smiled. “Been a while since you had some?”

They both knew she wasn’t referring to chocolate. Paige popped the rest of the brownie into her mouth as she turned on the tap to fill the kettle. “I’m not even sure I could tell you how long.”

Her cousin removed the cover from the plate. “Dig in.”

Paige tossed teabags into the pot and retrieved a couple of mugs from the cupboard before she helped herself to another brownie.

“Speaking of sex,” Ashley said. “Did I see Zach come in here with a duffel bag?”

“I’m not sure I follow your segue,” Paige said cautiously.

Her cousin smirked. “You look at Zach Crawford the way a sexually deprived woman looks at a plate of double-chocolate fudge brownies.”

Paige turned away from her cousin’s knowing gaze to pour boiling water into the teapot. “Hadfield House was booked for the weekend and because Zach is spending most of his time here anyway, it made sense for him to take the spare room.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Ashley said. “I’m just … surprised.”

“Surprised that I could be reasonable?”

Her cousin’s lips twitched, as if she was fighting against a smile. “Well, you haven’t exactly been reasonable since Zach showed up.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No,” Ashley admitted, her hand moving instinctively, protectively, to cover her rounded belly. “Because I know you wouldn’t love that little girl any more if you’d given birth to her, and because I know I would fight to my last breath against anyone who threatened to take my baby.”

“Speaking of babies,” Paige said, eager to change the subject. “Have you seen Marcus today?”

“I just came from the hospital,” Ashley said. “And though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, he’s even more beautiful than he was yesterday.”

“And the new mommy?”

“Radiant but exhausted. Apparently the baby woke up every two hours in the night to nurse.”

Paige winced. “I can’t imagine.”

“Gage offered to give him a bottle so she could sleep, but Meg is determined to ensure that Marcus has the best start and she believes breastfeeding is crucial to that and giving him a bottle at this stage could create nipple confusion and—as you can imagine—after a few more minutes of listening to her exceptionally detailed reasoning, Gage’s eyes started to glaze over.”

But Ashley only looked wistful, and Paige knew her cousin was now even more anxious to hold her own baby in her arms.

“Only a couple more months and you can debate the benefits of cloth diapers versus disposables until Cam’s eyes glaze over.”

“We’ve already done that one.” Ashley said and helped herself to a brownie. “Now getting back to Zach.”

“Why?” Paige asked warily.

“Because I guess what I’m really surprised about is that you invited this guy—this stranger—to live with you.”

“First of all, he’s not exactly a stranger—he’s the man that Olivia believed was Emma’s father. Second, we’re not living together—he’s only staying with me until the question of Emma’s paternity has been answered. Third, you were the one who told me I should cooperate with him.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Ashley mumbled.

“And why doesn’t it seem like a good idea now?”

“Because there’s a … vibe … whenever you and Zach are in the same room together.”

“A vibe?”

Her cousin nodded. “Like I said, you look at him like he’s a chocolate brownie, and he looks at you like … like you’re a woman he really wants to get naked with.”

“I’m sure you’re misinterpreting something.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Even if that’s true—and Zach hasn’t said or done anything to suggest that it is—you have to know that I would never fall for a guy just because he looks good in uniform.” And she figured her cousin, who was all too aware of the tumultuous relationship Paige had with her own father, would understand that better than most.

“I’m not worried that you’d fall for Zach because of his uniform but in spite of it,” Ashley clarified.

“There’s no need to worry at all,” Paige assured her.

She only hoped she sounded more confident than she felt because the truth was, the more time she spent with Zach, the more she forgot about the uniform and focused on the man. And she knew that could undermine all of her plans.

Chapter Six

Paige had seen enough in her family law practice to know that there were good parents and bad parents and some who were simply indifferent. She also knew that some mothers and fathers emulated the parenting practices they’d grown up with, and others consciously chose to distance themselves from same.

Paige didn’t remember her mother. She remembered, too well, her father. His apparent lack of interest in and affection for his daughter, his complete disregard of her wants and needs, his callous dismissal of her love. For years, she’d believed that she only had to try harder, be better, study more, or look prettier, and if she succeeded, then he might actually see her, maybe even care about her.

After her thirteenth birthday, she’d realized how delusional she’d been. And she’d decided that if she wanted any attention from her father—and as foolish as she knew it was, she still did—she was going to have to take drastic action to get that attention.

That was when she’d started hanging out with the older kids on base, breaking curfew and, when she was grounded, sneaking out at night to go to parties. And then she’d met Second Lieutenant Matthew Sanders. She’d known he was older—that was part of the attraction for her. Not old enough that anyone would accuse her of looking for a father figure, just old enough to shock her own father, if he ever noticed that she was with him.

Of course, Colonel Phillip Wilder hadn’t noticed—not until she’d taken her rebellion further than she’d intended, until it was too late to go back and undo what had been done.

She shook off the memories and the regrets and reminded herself that she’d learned an important lesson from her father—how not to parent.

She’d thought, when she first saw Zach in his uniform, that he would be like her father. After knowing him only a few days, she’d realized she was wrong. Zach was nothing like the colonel. His determination to be a father to Emma was proof of that, and Paige knew that she couldn’t continue to interfere with his efforts.

So when they got back from their appointment at Cam’s office and Zach suggested a trip to the park, Paige surprised him as much as herself by suggesting that he and Emma go on their own. And she took advantage of the unexpected time to herself to enjoy a book and the quiet outside in the sunshine.

If Zach knew nothing else about Emma, he knew that she loved the park. And since he’d started accompanying her on her daily excursions there, she seemed to be willing to transfer some of that happy feeling in his direction. But today, she wasn’t nearly as pleased with their outing as usual.

When he took her over to the swings, she seemed more interested in playing in the wood shavings that were spread on the ground. Which was okay until he caught her trying to put them in her mouth. He told her “no” and forced her to unfurl her fists to brush the chips away, which of course caused her to express her displeasure at the top of her lungs with huge tears thrown in for dramatic effect.

After she’d finally finished crying, she decided that she wanted to go on the swings, but as soon as he settled her in and set it in motion, she was squirming to get out again. So he took her to the slide instead, then she ran to the climber then back to the swings.

He tried to be patient, but it seemed that nothing he did was making her happy. When she started rubbing her eyes, he finally figured out that she was tired. She’d gone down for her nap at what he now knew was her usual time, but she’d been awakened early so they could make their appointment for the DNA testing. Although she’d seemed happy enough then, he was paying for it now.

When he got her back to the house, Paige was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of iced tea.

“You look exhausted,” she commented. “Both of you.”

“Why do you find that amusing?” he asked, inexplicably irritated by the hint of a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.

She shrugged, not denying that she did. “Because I know what you were thinking when you waltzed in here that first day.”

He had never “waltzed” anywhere in his life—except on a dance floor—but he ignored that fact for the moment to ask, “What is it you think I was thinking?”

“That considering your extensive military training and the ability to maneuver an F-16 jet, taking care of a baby would be a piece of cake.”

“I’m not sure I thought it would be a piece of cake,” he denied. “But I certainly didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

“She’s teething,” she reminded him.

“She’s crankier than a constipated general,” he grumbled.

Paige broke a Popsicle in two, gave one half to Emma and put the other half back in the freezer for later. Emma immediately began gnawing on the icy treat.

“How is it that you instinctively know what she wants?”

“It’s not instinctive,” she denied. “Or not entirely. Mostly it’s practice. Five-and-a-half-months ago I was as ill-equipped as you are now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She lifted a brow. “Because I’m female, you assume I was more automatically prepared to deal with a child?”

“No, because you’re obviously so good with her.”

She was somewhat mollified by his response. “As I said, it’s practice. I’ve been around her since Emma was born, so I learned to read her signals. You’ll figure it out, too, if you stick around long enough.”

He leaned back against the counter, folded his arms over his chest. “You do that a lot, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Take those not-so-subtle digs at me.”

“I’m not trying to be subtle,” she told him. “I want to make sure that you realize what kind of commitment parenthood requires.”

“I’m getting a pretty good picture,” he assured her.

“And how do you think child care is going to fit in with your career?”

He ignored her question to ask his own. “What branch of the military was your father in?”

“Army,” she answered automatically, then glared at him as if it was his fault she’d revealed information she obviously hadn’t intended to share. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Emma.”

“Except if your concerns about her future stem from your personal history,” he guessed.

“They don’t,” she said, but he knew it was a lie.

When Zach suggested that he wanted to try to put Emma down for another nap, Paige willingly went back outside to her book and the sunshine. She’d only read a few pages when she realized she’d forgotten her drink, so she set the paperback on the table and traipsed back into the house again.

She didn’t return to the house intending to spy on him. But when she went into the kitchen to retrieve her glass, she heard his deep voice through the baby monitor on the counter.

“Do you think I can’t handle a challenge?” he was saying, apparently to Emma, who, of course, didn’t respond. “Do you think I can’t manage to change one poopy diaper just because you’re pumping your legs and flailing your fists?

“I know Paige thinks I can’t handle it. In fact, she’s probably counting on me giving up on the whole fatherhood thing. But I’ve got news for both of you,” he continued, still speaking in the same even tone. “I am a lieutenant colonel in the United States Air Force and there’s no way I’m going to let a fourteen-month-old baby see me crumble, no matter—

“Oh my Lord, child, what did you eat that turned into that?”

Paige smiled, picturing the look of complete horror on his face that she heard in his voice.

For a few minutes, she heard only background noises. The whisper of wipes being tugged out of their container, some muted gagging, the click of the latch on the diaper disposal, the crinkle of a new diaper being unfolded, a quiet gurgle of appreciation, the snap of buttons being refastened. Then Zach spoke again.

“We’ve already made progress, haven’t we?” he was murmuring softly to her now. “Only a few days ago, you would have rather screamed than smiled at me, and although we might have had a little setback at the park, now you’re snuggled in my arms and your eyes are drifting shut.”

He was right, Paige realized. He had made a lot of progress with Emma in a short time, so much so that the little girl looked around for him when she heard his voice and smiled when he came into the room. And she wondered, not for the first time, if she’d made a mistake in inviting Zach to stay with them.

Because Paige was beginning to realize that not only had he made progress with the little girl he was currently rocking to sleep, he was making progress with her, too. She was actually starting to like him, and that wasn’t just foolish, it was potentially dangerous.

“I said ‘your eyes are drifting shut,'” Zach repeated, and Paige smiled, easily picturing Emma’s big blue eyes stubbornly wide open, staring up at him as he tried to coax her to sleep.

She wondered what his air force buddies would think if they could see him now, attempting baby hypnosis. But the silence from the baby monitor told her that he’d not only attempted but succeeded, forcing her to accept that there probably wasn’t anything the man couldn’t do.

Considering that he might seek custody of the little girl, the realization was hardly reassuring.

With a sigh, she picked up her glass and went back outside.

Four chapters later, Paige realized that Zach hadn’t made an appearance since he’d gone upstairs to put Emma down for her nap. Curious, she went back into the house and made her way up the stairs.

She found him when she peeked into Emma’s room. The baby was finally asleep in his arms and Zach looked as if he was sleeping, too. She hesitated in the doorway, tempted to leave them undisturbed. But she knew that Emma would sleep better and longer if she was settled in her crib, and Zach would likely end up with a stiff neck if she left him as he was with his head tilted back in the chair.

She slid one hand beneath Emma’s head and the other under her legs, but as she started to lift the sleeping child, Zach’s grip instinctively tightened. Paige had no intention of playing tug-of-war with the baby, but now her hands were trapped.

She could feel the heat emanating from his body, and her own started to tingle. She swallowed and tried to ease away, but his hold on the baby held her just as fast.

She drew in a breath and inhaled his warm masculine scent. Oh, he smelled good. And looked even better.

His T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and molded to his pecs, and his jeans hugged his long, lean legs. Had he shown up at her door dressed as casually as he was now, she likely would have melted in a puddle at his feet. But the uniform had made her cautious, urged her to maintain a safe distance. She tried to picture him in that uniform now, but her mind insisted on wanting to undress him instead.

She swallowed, hard, recognizing that she was in big trouble here.

“What are you doing?”

Her gaze flew to Zach’s face.

His eyes were open now, alert, and focused intently on her.

“I, uh—” Oh Lord, his eyes were so blue and so intense that she nearly lost her train of thought. “Emma,” she suddenly remembered. “I was going to put Emma in her crib.”

“I can do it,” Zach said.

“Oh. Of course,” she agreed. “But I was walking by and it looked like you were sleeping, too, and—”

“I just closed my eyes for a minute.”

Paige nodded and tugged her hands free.

Zach rose from the chair with the baby in his arms. “I wouldn’t have dropped her, you know.”

She nodded again because she knew it was true. Because she knew that Zach wouldn’t do anything to harm Emma, and the obvious evidence of his affection for the child was seriously undermining Paige’s resolve to keep him at a distance.

He settled Emma on her mattress, pulled the blanket up over her. “I would protect my daughter with my life.”

Yeah, she’d realized that, too. And how was she supposed to resist a man who so clearly loved the little girl? But she had to ask, “Are you really that convinced—or are you just so stubborn that you can’t consider the possibility, any superficial physical resemblance aside, that she might not be your daughter?”

“Did Olivia sleep around?”

“No,” Paige responded immediately, firmly, in defense of her friend.

“Was she dishonest?”

“No,” she said again, because even though she could see where he was going with these questions, she couldn’t lie to him.

“Then why would I question her claim that I am the father of her child?”

Paige sighed as she followed him out into the hall. “Because most men probably would.”

“I’m not going to lie and say that I was filled with joy and anticipation when I read Olivia’s letter,” he told her, starting down the steps. “The truth is, I was stunned and more than a little panicked. And maybe my first instinct was to deny the possibility. But once I’d had a chance to think about it, I knew that Olivia wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“I know you’re right,” Paige admitted. “But what if Olivia wasn’t lying but was simply mistaken? It’s not beyond the realm of possibility to think that she had a brief fling with someone else and didn’t consider that the baby might be his.”

“Well, I guess we’ll know the truth soon enough.”

“I guess we will,” she agreed.

“In the meantime.” He paused at the bottom of the staircase and turned to face her.

Because she was still standing on the last step, they were eye to eye. Her fingers curled around the newel post; her breath caught. His gaze dropped to her mouth, as if he wanted to kiss her. Paige started to sway forward, as if she wanted him to kiss her.

Then Zach took a quick step back. “In the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She exhaled an unsteady breath. “What’s that?”

“I want to take Emma to California.”

It was a good thing she was still holding on to the post, because his words nearly knocked her feet out from under her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She stepped down, moving past him as she tried to get her head around what he was saying. “Don’t you think that’s a little premature?”

He shook his head. “My parents are expecting me in California next week,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what to tell them about Emma. I wasn’t going to tell them anything until the test results came back, but I know she’s mine, Paige. And you know she’s mine. And I want my parents to meet her.”

“You can’t honestly think I’m going to let you take her across the country with you.”

“Of course not,” he acknowledged drily. “But I thought you could come, too.”

She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the suggestion. “I can’t just pack up and take off for California.”

“Why not?”

She frowned, realizing that she didn’t have a ready answer to his question, that there was no legitimate reason to refuse his request. And yet, her instincts warned that going anywhere with Zach Crawford was a bad idea. So all she said was, “I’ll think about it.”

It was hardly the most promising response, but given that Zach had been prepared for an outright refusal, he was willing to accept it. At least for now.

He could understand why she might have some reservations, especially considering the chemistry that had been simmering between them since the beginning and seemed to be moving toward a full boil.

He knew she wasn’t oblivious to it. At first, he hadn’t been so sure. In fact, she’d seemed so cool and polite and distant, he’d thought the tug of attraction he felt whenever he was near her might have been entirely one-sided.

But recently, he’d noticed the way her gaze would drop away from his, as if she was afraid to maintain eye contact. Or the way she jolted whenever he touched her—even if that touch was the most casual or accidental brush of his hand against her arm. No, she definitely wasn’t oblivious.

He only hoped her wariness wouldn’t prevent her from agreeing to make the trip. He really wanted her to meet his family, to show her that he had parents and sisters who would love and care for Emma because she was part of their family, too.

In the almost ten days that had passed since he’d first come to Pinehurst, he’d barely heard her mention her own family—aside from Ashley and Megan, of course. And remembering Megan’s earlier comment about Paige taking care of Emma on her own, he suspected that she didn’t have a support system. That might be the reason why she was so reluctant to entrust him with any real responsibility where Emma was concerned—because she was just so accustomed to doing everything on her own that she didn’t know how to accept help when it was offered.

Whatever the reasons for her resistance, he knew he didn’t have very much time left to change her mind. His flight was scheduled to leave on Wednesday, and he’d already booked seats for Paige and Emma to go with him.

Paige couldn’t sleep. She’d taken a hiatus from the law firm to figure out her plans for the future, but since Zach had shown up at her door, she now had to consider the possibility that Emma might not be part of that future. Because as much as Zach seemed to appreciate the role she’d played in the little girl’s life, the reality was that if he got custody of Emma and was posted to Florida or Arizona or California—which was apparently where his family lived—it wasn’t likely that she would ever see her again.

With that thought weighing heavily on her mind, she gave up even trying to close her eyes and instead pushed back the covers.

She made her way quietly down the stairs to the kitchen, where she found a bottle of her favorite merlot in the wine rack and poured herself a glass. Tucking the receiver for the baby monitor under her arm and carrying the glass in her hand, she slipped out through the patio doors onto the back deck.

The night was dark and quiet, but the sky was bright with stars. She set the monitor and the wine on the table and stretched out on a teak lounger.

She’d had second and third thoughts when she’d packed up everything she could fit in the trunk and backseat of her car and brought Emma to Pinehurst for the summer. She’d thought she would miss her work, her colleagues and clients, and the usual frenetic pace at the firm. She’d thought she would go crazy after only a week in this quiet town where she’d spent the last of her teenage years.

But the town wasn’t as quiet as it used to be. Or maybe it was her own maturity that allowed her to appreciate the slower lifestyle now, that made her see what a wonderful place it would be to raise Emma.

Paige knew she could find work here, if not at one of the firms in town, then by hanging out her own shingle. She was a good attorney and there were always clients who needed representation. The more difficult challenge might be finding a care provider for Emma.

She sighed and reached for her glass of wine, refusing to consider that care for Emma might not be an issue.

A light breeze rustled through the leaves and goose bumps rose on her skin, reminding her that she’d forgotten her robe. The cotton boxers and ribbed tank that were her summer pajamas had seemed warm enough inside, but the early June evening was several degrees cooler than her bedroom. Still, she wasn’t overly concerned about her state of dress—until the patio door slid open again and Zach stepped out into the moonlight.

She hadn’t turned on the outside lights, but enough illumination spilled over from the neighbor’s yard that she could see his heated gaze rake over her, and her skin tingled everywhere it touched.

She was suddenly conscious of her half-dressed state and even more conscious of his. Because Zach was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that weren’t even buttoned. Without a shirt, she could see that his shoulders were even broader than she’d imagined and perfectly sculpted. And his stomach really did look like a washboard with all of those rippling muscles. As Paige’s eyes skimmed over him, her mouth actually went dry.

If it was shallow to respond in a purely sexual manner to such a well-toned physique, well, then, she was shallow. She was also very close to whimpering.

She swallowed a mouthful of wine instead. “I, uh, thought you were sleeping.”

“I was,” he told her. “Until I heard the patio door slide open.”

His protective instincts were obviously very finely honed—or at least a lot more so than her father’s. Philip Wilder had never noticed when his fourteen-year-old daughter snuck out of the house, or maybe he’d just never cared.

Regardless, she should have remembered that she wasn’t alone in the house and put on a robe. Of course, it was Zach’s presence that had kept her awake—and while she might have excused her inability to sleep as a result of her concerns over Emma’s custody, she knew that was only part of the reason for her restlessness. The other—and maybe even the bigger part—was her awareness of this man.

She was definitely aware of him now. Aware and wanting and fervently cursing her hormones for not having the sense to realize how perilous wanting him could be.

She set down her glass and tucked her legs up against her chest so he couldn’t see the hard peaks of her nipples pressing against the thin cotton of her shirt, so he wouldn’t guess how desperately she wanted him to touch her, kiss her, take her.

She ignored the heat that coursed through her veins and said, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He dropped down onto the lounger beside hers but sat so that he was facing her. “You definitely disturb me.”

Paige thought it was probably wiser not to respond to the blatant innuendo, and so she said nothing. Not even when he reached for the wineglass she’d set down.

He lifted it to his nose, sniffed. His brows rose and he tipped the glass to his lips. There was something strangely intimate about him drinking from her glass, putting his mouth where hers had been.

He swallowed, and his lips curved again. “Stonechurch Vineyards merlot. The silver label Special Reserve.”

“You saw the bottle on the counter,” she guessed.

He shook his head. “My parents run the winery. Or maybe I should say that they used to run the winery. My sister, Hayden, took over most of the operations a few years back.”

The revelation that she was drinking wine his family had made was as surprising as the realization that he had a family. It just wasn’t something she’d thought about until he’d mentioned wanting to take Emma to California.

It was difficult enough to admit that this man might be the little girl’s father, that he would have a legitimate legal claim to custody of the child who had taken complete hold of her heart, but she’d never considered that he might be able to offer her so much more than his name. That he had parents who could be Emma’s grandparents, a sister who could be her aunt and maybe even an extended family who would want to be part of her life.

But all she said was, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Three of them, actually,” he told her.

“You’re one of four kids?” She thought about how busy she was just chasing around after Emma. “Wow, that must have kept your parents busy.”

“I always tease Hayden—she’s the youngest—that they didn’t have more than they could handle until she was born because that’s when they finally quit.”

“What is her response to that?”

“That the real reason they stopped having children was that they’d finally had the perfect one.”

It was the affection she heard in his voice as much as his response that made her smile. “She’s the one who works at the winery?”

He nodded.

“What do your other sisters do?” she asked, genuinely curious about the siblings she’d only just realized he had.

“Lauryn is a doctor and Jocelyn is a college professor.”

“And you fly planes,” she noted, thinking that his parents definitely hadn’t raised any slackers.

He nodded. “It’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“Why the military?”

“I heard a rumor that chicks dig a guy in uniform.”

She smiled because she knew it was the response he expected. And because she didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d found himself the object of countless affections, though she wouldn’t assume that had anything to do with the uniform. Because even out of uniform, in only a pair of unzipped jeans, he was all too appealing.

She took back her glass of wine and swallowed a long, bracing gulp.

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you always know you were going to be a lawyer?”

“No,” she said. “In fact, I was in my second year studying geology when I had to vacate the apartment I was renting because it flooded. I ended up staying with a friend and the landlord took me to small-claims court to sue for nonpayment of rent.

“Of course, there was no way I could afford a lawyer to defend against the claim, so I started researching the law myself. In the end, I countersued for breach of contract, pointing out that I couldn’t be expected to live in an apartment that was eighteen inches underwater.”

“And you won,” he guessed.

She nodded. “That’s when I decided to go to law school.”

He shifted so that his knees were almost touching the side of her chair. The denim looked faded and worn and a lot softer than the rock-hard muscle that flexed beneath the fabric. Good Lord, just looking at the man’s quads had her heart pounding inside her chest and her fingers itching to touch. Instead, she curled them tighter around the glass.

She finished off her wine and stood up so that the lounger was between them. “And that’s where I met Olivia,” she reminded him—reminding both of them—of her close friendship with the woman who had been his lover and had likely given birth to his child.

“I cared about Olivia,” Zach told her, standing to block her access to the door. “I wouldn’t have been involved with her otherwise. But I wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Your relationship with Olivia really isn’t any of my business.”

“And yet you keep throwing her name out whenever the topic of conversation touches on anything remotely personal, as if you’re deliberately putting up barriers between us.”

“She was one of my best friends.”

“Are you afraid that she would disapprove of my being here?”

She shook her head. “According to the letter you showed me, she wanted you to have the chance to get to know Emma.”

“I’m talking about my being here with you.”

“You’re not here with me,” she denied.

He smiled at that.

“I mean—you’re here and I’m here,” she explained, conscious of the heat suffusing her cheeks. “But we’re not together.”

“What if I want to change that?”

She shook her head again. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He took a step closer. “Well, apparently, we have a difference of opinion.”

She lifted a hand to ward him off and sucked in a breath when her palm came into contact with his bare flesh. He was every bit as solid and warm as he looked, and she wanted—more than anything—to lean closer, to press herself against him, to feel the hard length of his body against hers.

“Zach.” She’d meant to speak his name as a warning. Instead, it sounded like a plea.

He took the empty wineglass from her hand and reached around her to set it back on the table. Then he lifted his hand to her face and gently cupped her cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so tender, she nearly sighed.

“I just want to kiss you,” he said and brushed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip, slowly, sensuously.

“Definitely not a good idea,” she said, all too aware that the breathless tone of her voice contradicted her words.

“Another difference of opinion,” he said easily, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Chapter Seven

She should pull away.

Paige knew that would be the smart thing to do. But Zach’s hands were on her face, gentle but firm, holding her immobile beneath the sensual onslaught of his lips. And even if she’d been able to move, the truth was, she didn’t want to.

His kiss was as gentle as his touch—and temptingly seductive. He kissed as she imagined he would make love—because yes, she had imagined not just kissing him but a whole lot more—slowly, deeply and incredibly thoroughly.

With a soft sigh, she parted her lips, meeting his tongue with her own. He tasted of the wine they’d both drank, but somehow his flavor was stronger, richer and even more intoxicating. As if of their own volition, her hands slid over the hard planes of his chest, over the tight muscles of his shoulders, to link behind his neck.

His fingers trailed down her throat, skimmed across her collarbone, then traced along the line of her spine, moving slowly downward until they curved around her bottom and pulled her closer. She felt the hard press of his arousal at the juncture of her thighs and moaned.

His kiss wasn’t so gentle now. It was hot and hungry and so fiercely passionate that it made her shiver. Not because she was afraid, but because her own desire was just as powerful and overwhelming.

She was hardly a virgin, but nothing in her experience had prepared her for being kissed by Zach Crawford. The kiss went on and on, and with each racing beat of her heart, the wanting inside of her grew stronger.

She didn’t know how far things might have gone if he’d wanted to push for more. But he didn’t push at all. In fact, he was the one who eventually eased away.

“I think you should go back up to bed now,” he whispered.

Her blood was still churning, her pulse pounding, her knees weak, but when he spoke, his voice was level and so carefully controlled that she might have thought the bone-melting kiss they’d just shared had no effect on him. Until she looked up at him, and the fire that continued to burn in his eyes proved otherwise.

To be wanted so much by such a man was … exhilarating. To want him so much that she couldn’t think about anything else was … terrifying.

She ordered her trembling legs to move and stepped toward the door. “Good night.”

Zach watched Paige slip back inside the house, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to follow. But he knew that what he needed right now was space—distance from the far-too-tempting woman who had him all tied up in knots.

Damn. He never should have kissed her.

If he hadn’t, he’d still be in the fantasy stage of wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked, if her taste was as sweet as he imagined. But the wondering had been driving him to distraction, and so he’d stopped speculating and started kissing—and the jolt of heat had seared him right down to his toes.

Chemistry between a man and woman was an unpredictable thing. Sometimes it was there, sometimes it wasn’t. He’d been attracted to other women before, and he’d learned that sometimes the chemistry sparked and sometimes it fizzled. With Paige, it was positively explosive.

A man had to be crazy to walk away from that kind of heat. Except that, in this case, Zach was all too aware that his efforts to stoke the flames between them could very well result in his getting burned.

And as much as he wanted Paige, he wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize his relationship with the daughter he’d only just found. If he hadn’t already done so.

Because while he’d told himself it was “just a kiss”—and told her the same thing—they both knew it was a lie. There was nothing “just” about the kiss they’d shared. It wasn’t a simple touching of lips that was over and done. No, the kiss they’d shared had been a prelude to and a promise of so much more.

And she’d been an equal participant in the kiss. Yeah, maybe he’d started it—but within a few seconds, she’d been just as involved in the lip-lock as he and making just as many promises.

Thankfully, he’d learned a long time ago about the dangers of trusting in a woman’s promises, and he wouldn’t let himself get sucked in again.

Ever.

Paige had promised Zach that she would think about going to California with him, but the more she thought about it, the more she was sure that traveling across the country with him wasn’t a good idea. Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared to share with him the real reason for her apprehension—namely, that she had a hard enough time resisting temptation in her own backyard without giving him the home-field advantage.

But by Monday, Zach was really pressing for a response to his invitation, and when Paige continued to hedge, he asked, “Is it because I kissed you?”

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