“That was crazy,” she gasped as soon as he ended the kiss.

“Not crazy,” he corrected, “wonderful.” Keaton framed her face with his fingers and held her still so he could look into her eyes. “If you cook like you kiss, I'm going to be in trouble.”

“In trouble how?”

“I won't be able to stop myself from wanting more.”

Color flooded her cheeks. Lark hooked her fingers around his hands and pulled them away from her face. “I don't think you'll have to worry on either account.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you've never struck me as a man who does anything that isn't good for him.”

“What about kissing you isn't good for me?”

She set her hands on her hips and regarded him incredulously.

“Have you forgotten the bad blood between our families? It already forced Skye and Jake out of town. Can you imagine how bad it would be if we were caught?”

“So what are we supposed to do with these feelings between us?”

“What feelings? It's just a simple case of proximity lust. Nothing more.”

Keaton studied her, wondering if that was what she truly believed, or if it was a way to let him off the hook. “Is proximity lust a scientific term, or something you just made up?”

* * *

Because of the Baby … is a Texas Cattleman's Club: After the Storm novel— As a Texas town rebuilds, love heals all wounds …

Because of the Baby…

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart Award for series contemporary romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota, USA with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she's not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon® Desire™, she can be found sailing with friends on the St Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.com. Follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To Sunshine Grandahl for sharing her preemie experiences, and Sarah M. Anderson for being such a fantastic collaborator.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

One

Lark Taylor gathered a deep breath as the elevator doors opened. Plastering a pleasant expression on her face, she straightened her spine. Time to go to work. With a cake box balanced carefully in her hands, she strode down the short hallway to the nurses’ station in front of the ICU. The three women behind the desk didn’t notice her approach, or if they did, they ignored her.

“So I told him if he thinks he’s going hunting two weekends in a row, he can find a new girlfriend.” Marsha Todd, a forty-year-old divorced woman with no kids, was holding court as usual. With her bleached teeth, flawless makeup and manicured nails, she was the same sort of shallow individual who had tormented Lark in high school. “So naturally he’s staying home. He might not be the brightest guy I’ve dated, but he’s smart enough not to mess with all this.”

Jessa and Chelsea, the two other nurses working the ICU today, laughed in appreciation. Taken separately, either woman was tolerable to work with. Jessa was a quiet single mom with a three-year-old son and Chelsea had an alcoholic husband who worked construction. With Marsha as their ringleader, however, they took on a pack mentality. Which meant, if they didn’t want to be on the bottom of the pecking order, they’d better make sure someone else was. That person was Lark.

“You’re early,” Marsha remarked, her tone pitched in criticism as Lark set the cake box on the counter.

“I’m going to spend some time with Grace. I just wanted to drop this off first.”

“What is it?” Jessa asked. The nicest of the trio, she had borne the brunt of Marsha’s bullying until Lark transferred to the ICU three months ago.

“A cake for Marsha’s birthday tomorrow.”

“You bought me a cake?”

“Actually I made it.”

Chelsea opened the cake box and peered in. “You made this? Really? Looks store bought.”

“It’s a hobby of mine.”

“It’s beautiful.” Jessa’s brown eyes were wide with appreciation. “How long did this take?”

“A couple hours,” Lark said, her anxiety easing beneath her coworkers’ admiration.

“How did you do the flowers?” Jessa asked. “The roses look real.”

“I use a frosting tip and something called a rose nail.”

Marsha barely glanced at the three-layer white cake painstakingly decorated in a basket weave pattern with buttercream frosting and royal icing daisies, roses and forget-me-nots. “If it’s not gluten free, I can’t eat it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t know how. I talk about it all the time.” But never to Lark.

“I guess I’m so focused on the patients.” Lark realized even as she uttered the excuse that it was the wrong thing to say. “I haven’t heard you mention it.”

“And speaking of patients,” Marsha said, shooting looks at both Jessa and Chelsea. “We’d better get in and check on them.”

All three of her coworkers walked away, abandoning Lark at the desk with her cake and her disappointment. Her efforts to make friends with the other nurses these last few months had all been a bust. Marsha was top of the social order in the ICU and she didn’t like Lark.

Not knowing what to do with the birthday cake that Marsha couldn’t eat, Lark took it down to the surgical floor. She knew her former coworkers would appreciate the treat. Leaving the cake box on the desk of her friend Julie with a brief note explaining what had happened, Lark headed to the stairs.

One floor down from the surgery floor was the maternity ward. Lark had worked at the hospital for three years without ever setting foot on the floor where children were born until a fateful night three months ago when her niece was born. Estranged from her sister these last four years Lark hadn’t been able to tell the medical staff when Skye was due, but they’d been able to surmise she was about twenty-eight or twenty-nine weeks along.

Reaching the third-floor landing, Lark headed to the door that would take her into the maternity ward. She put her hand on the door and pushed it open an inch, finding her way blocked by a broad shoulder clad in a navy blue cotton shirt. Dark brown hair in desperate need of a cut curled upward against the shirt’s collar.

The tall, ruggedly built man on the other side of the door was Keaton Holt, brother of the man Lark’s sister had run off. She seldom encountered him around Royal. He spent most of his time at the family ranch and only made occasional visits into town. She usually heard about those from her father, who complained every time Keaton showed up at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

All that had changed after the tornado ripped through town and a pregnant Skye had been discovered in her overturned rental car.

Keaton was talking on his cell, fully engaged in conversation, and hadn’t noticed her presence. Lark would have to interrupt in order to get past. It would mean she’d catch Keaton’s attention and have to brave the intensity of his sharp blue gaze that seemed to see straight through her.

As Lark debated retreating back down the stairs and avoiding Keaton altogether, his words floated through the narrow crack between the door and frame.

“That’s why I demanded we get the DNA test run. You’re Grace’s grandmother. You shouldn’t be limited to staring at her through the NICU window.”

“Of course Grace is his daughter. He and Skye were madly in love when they left Royal.” Keaton’s voice rang with arrogant confidence that chafed Lark’s already frayed nerves. “He chose her over his family. And yeah, he’s a stubborn jerk, but if things had ended between them, we’d know.”

Lark leaned as far forward as she dared, her curiosity getting the better of her. Day after day she’d sat beside her sister’s unconscious body, desperate to know what Skye had been doing in the years since she left town. Did Keaton have the answers?

“I don’t know where Jake is.” And Keaton sounded far from happy about that. For the last few months, Lark had rebelled against the possibility that Jake was Grace’s father. He’d made no attempt to get in contact with Skye in the three months since she was hurt by the tornado that had devastated Royal. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test as long as she had. What sort of man abandons his child and the woman he loves? A no-good Holt, that’s who.

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’ve called his company several times, but his assistant has given me the runaround. From some of his other staff I was able to find out that he’s out of the country, but they refused to give me any more information, so I have no idea where he’s gone.”

Until this moment Lark hadn’t realized that Jake didn’t know about Skye. She’d just assumed that he hadn’t rushed to Skye’s side because their relationship was over. Skye wore neither an engagement nor a wedding ring, and her fingers hadn’t borne any telltale band of paleness that indicated a ring had recently been removed. Given how passionate their love had been when they first left Royal, Lark couldn’t believe Jake and Skye had been together four years without making some legal commitment to each other. Especially after Skye became pregnant.

“Of course I explained that Skye was hurt. His assistant...” Keaton’s frustration was audible, but there was pain in his voice, as well. After a long moment, he continued. “The last time I called for Jake, she told me that she’d been informed he didn’t have a brother.”

Despite the animosity that existed between their families, Lark winced in sympathy. She and Skye hadn’t had any contact these last four years either. She’d been shocked upon moving back to Royal to discover Skye and Jake were still involved and actively hiding their relationship from their parents. Several times in the few months between Lark’s return to Royal and Skye’s departure with Jake, Lark had warned her sister that she was making a huge mistake trusting a Holt. When Skye chose Jake over her family, Lark had said some harsh things.

She’d accused Skye of being selfish and inconsiderate. At the time Lark had believed her indignation was righteous, but as the years passed, she realized that what she’d perceived as concern for her parents was really resentment born of envy that her sister had chosen to be happy.

“It’s okay, Mom. I get that Jake hasn’t been able to forgive me for putting them in a position where they felt they had no choice but to leave town,” Keaton said, his tone dark. “I can live with being disowned by him. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about him or his family. He and Skye might not be married, but she is still family. That’s why I wanted proof that Grace is his daughter.”

“Excuse me.” Someone had asked Keaton to step aside.

He nodded and moved out of the way before continuing. “The DNA test should be back today or tomorrow. In the meantime I hired an investigator to find out where Jake has gone.”

Before Lark could move, the door she’d been leaning against was pulled away. Off balance, she stumbled into the hallway that led to the NICU. After she made a couple ungainly sidesteps, someone caught her by the arm, steadying her.

She glanced up at her savior. Softened by a thick fringe of black lashes, Keaton Holt’s denim-blue eyes captured her full attention. At five feet ten inches, Lark rarely encountered a man she could look up at. Keaton towered over her, making her feel normal. Maybe even a little dainty.

The heat at her center had worked its way into her cheeks by the time she realized she wasn’t standing on her own two feet, but still relying on his support. She should have regained her balance and gotten the heck out of there. Keaton and Gloria had to be wondering if she’d been listening in on their conversation. But the leashed strength of the man slammed into her like a runaway calf.

Gripped by what could only be described as a rush of lust, Lark floundered in confusion. Starting when she was a baby, her father’s bedtime stories had revolved around the wrongs inflicted on her family by the Holts. She couldn’t possibly want Keaton Holt.

“Thank you.” She disengaged her arm and took an awkward step back. With effort she ripped her attention away from his sculpted lips. Twenty feet away the room that housed the smallest and sickest babies offered refuge. “Excuse me.”

“Lark.” Keaton’s deep voice rumbled through her as she fled. “Lark, we need to talk.”

His voice didn’t recede the way it should if she was escaping him. Bracing herself, Lark stopped beside the door that led into the NICU unit.

“The DNA results are due shortly.”

“I know,” she mumbled, miserable at the idea that she’d have to share Grace with any of the Holts. Unfortunately and against her better judgment, she was also sympathetic to their plight. If she’d been denied access to her niece, she would be beyond miserable.

“We need to talk about what’s going to happen next.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“That’s not really the case, is it? Once the test determines that Grace is Jake’s daughter then I have the same obligation to her as you do.”

“Obligation?” Did he seriously think what she felt for Skye and Grace was born of responsibility? She loved her sister and would do everything in her power to take care of Grace. “You think it’s your duty to step up because your brother is nowhere to be found.” Lark’s earlier compassion was trampled beneath an onslaught of annoyance. “You needn’t bother. I have matters well in hand.”

“I don’t think of it as a duty, but I do feel responsible because Jake isn’t here.”

“And why isn’t he?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on.” Keaton set his hand on his hip and gazed beyond her shoulder. “If he did, he’d be at her side.”

Lark wasn’t at all convinced. “What makes you think they’re even still together?”

“My brother loves Skye. Grace is his daughter.” Keaton’s thick brows drew together. “That’s all the proof I need.”

Having had no way to reach her sister these last four years, Lark understood his frustration, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. “Did you let him know Skye was hurt?”

Keaton’s expression shifted into stoic lines. “I’ve spoken with his assistant, but she’s refusing to forward any messages.”

“That’s quite an excuse.” Lark blew out a breath. “If he and Skye were still together I believe he’d have moved heaven and earth to be here for her and Grace. I don’t think he’s her father.”

But she wasn’t as convinced as she pretended to be. Grace had Holt eyes and bone structure. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test for so long. Her instincts told her Grace was Jake’s daughter, but the feud that existed between the Taylors and Holts made it so hard for Lark to do the right thing. In the end Keaton’s determination and threats of legal action had worn her down.

“Then who is Grace’s father and where is he?” Keaton demanded.

Lark had no more idea what had been going on between Skye and Jake than Keaton did, and she wasn’t going to pretend any different. “I don’t have a clue. We haven’t spoken since she left Royal.” Seeing Keaton’s surprise, Lark continued. “I didn’t think running away with your brother was a good idea and told her so.”

“Because you didn’t think a Holt was good enough for her?” Keaton’s neutral tone kept his comment from sounding bitter.

Lark didn’t want to fight with Keaton. She was sick of their families being at war. “I knew my father would disown her if she left.”

Skye had always been her parents’ favorite. They understood her. Unlike Lark, she’d been pretty and popular in school. She didn’t lock herself away in books. Their parents didn’t care that Skye’s grades were good enough to keep her in the top twenty-five percent of her class; they loved the fact that she was a cheerleader and voted prom queen her senior year.

“I guess we have more in common than either of us knew.”

“Seems we do.” Tightness eased in Lark’s chest. Regret had been her constant companion for four years. It had been a lonely time. Her parents refused to talk about Skye, and Lark had been too ashamed at how she’d treated her sister to confide in any of her friends.

“Thank you for letting me do the test.” Keaton’s voice softened. “My mother desperately wants to visit her granddaughter.”

Regret swamped her at his words. Lark wished her parents had similar desires. “My parents haven’t seen Grace.” The words spilled out of her with more bitterness than she’d intended.

“But once she leaves the hospital, they can see her as much as they want.” Keaton had misinterpreted Lark’s meaning.

“The problem is they don’t want to see her.”

Despite the harm that had befallen their daughter, Tyrone and Vera Taylor hadn’t set aside their resentment over Skye’s choosing to run off with a hated Holt. Oh, they’d visited her in the beginning when she was first brought in and they acted genuinely concerned, but as the months passed and Skye didn’t wake after the medical treatment that induced her coma ceased, they’d retreated into bitterness.

“I don’t understand.”

“They still can’t forgive Skye for running off with your brother.”

“Don’t you think this thing between our families has gone on too long?”

“Maybe.” Everything she’d ever been told by her parents made her want to keep Keaton and his family as far from Grace and Skye as possible, but deep in her heart she knew that if Keaton was right and Jake was Grace’s father, the Holts deserved equal time with her. “But you can’t expect decades of mistrust to evaporate overnight.”

“Jake and Skye got the ball rolling. The rest of us have had four years to adjust.”

His challenge settled a huge weight on her shoulders. She was supposed to mistrust him, dislike him even. Since the late 1800s their families had been fighting over the ownership of two thousand acres dotted with several lakes, owned by Lark’s family, that bordered the Holts’ ranch. She’d grown up listening to her grandfather and father rant about what liars and cheats the Holts were. Never to be trusted. How they were willing to do whatever it took to take what didn’t belong to them.

Lark was sick of the feud. It had started with a bill of sale that had gone missing back in 1898. Edwin Holt claimed Titus McMann had sold him the two thousand acres in order to fund his trip to Alaska where gold had been drawing prospectors since the 1880s.

Unfortunately, Titus had died before he could leave town and when Holt’s bill of sale couldn’t be found in the town records, his brother subsequently sold the land to John Taylor. Although there was nothing overtly suspicious about Titus’s death, the fact that both the money he’d received from Edwin Holt and the bill of sale had mysteriously disappeared caused Holt to insinuate John Taylor had been up to no good.

A hard headed, unforgiving man, John Taylor hadn’t appreciated the trouble Holt’s allegations caused his family and did everything in his power to ruin his neighbor’s business and reputation.

Lark hated that her parents continued to be obsessed with the ancient land dispute. They couldn’t just let it go. It would be one thing if they’d been the ones who’d lost the land, but they’d won and couldn’t rise above their hostility. And she was ashamed that she’d let their spiteful rhetoric poison her against her own sister, something she’d give anything to fix. If only Skye would wake up.

“I heard they’re going to release Grace in the next few days,” he continued.

“I know.” The news that her niece was healthy enough to leave the hospital brought with it both excitement and panic.

“Are you planning on taking her home?”

Something about the intensity in Keaton’s manner warned Lark that this wasn’t just an innocent question. “Yes.”

“She’s just as much my responsibility as yours.”

“You don’t know that. If you did, you wouldn’t have asked for a DNA test to prove she’s your brother’s daughter.”

“The test isn’t for me,” Keaton assured her. “I trust that Jake and Skye are together and want everyone else to know it too.”

“What makes you so sure?” Lark asked, wanting him to reassure her.

“Your sister loves my brother. She’d never leave him.”

Then why had Skye been returning to Royal and where was Jake?

“I have to start work in forty-five minutes,” Lark said. “I really want to go spend some time with Grace before that happens.”

“What are your plans for her care while you’re working?” Keaton’s blunt question caught her unprepared.

Lark usually worked four twelve-hour shifts in a row and then had six days off. She liked the schedule, but it was going to make being Grace’s primary caretaker a little challenging. Lark had no intention of putting the tiny baby in day care and she didn’t like the idea of a stranger watching her while Lark was at work. She’d hoped her mother might be willing to watch her grandchild, but thanks to Skye’s estrangement from the Taylor family, Lark was pretty sure the answer would be no.

“I haven’t finalized anything.”

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because I intend to be involved.”

* * *

Keaton saw immediately that Lark didn’t like what he had to say.

“Involved how?”

“I’m going to take care of her while you’re working.”

“You, personally?” She shook her head. “What do you know about babies?”

“What I don’t know I can learn.”

“Don’t you have enough going on with rebuilding your ranch?”

When the tornado had torn through in October, the Holt ranch house had been demolished along with several of the outbuildings. Fortunately Keaton’s parents had been out of town and most of the ranch hands had been miles away checking the fence line for breaks.

Keaton and a few of his employees hadn’t been so lucky. Most of the men working nearby had made it to shelter before the tornado hit, but Keaton and his foreman had been in the barn. Jeb had suffered a minor concussion and Keaton’s shoulder had been dislocated by flying debris.

Because of the number of people injured by the tornado, Lark had been working in the ER when Keaton drove himself and three other injured men to the hospital. He recalled the way his spirits had lifted at the briefest flash of awareness that had sparked between them as her eyes first met his. A second later she’d blinked and became all business as she sorted out the extent of their injuries.

The fleeting connection reminded him of simpler days when they’d been kids and he found her both appealing and a curiosity. The three-year difference in their ages and the feud between their families had given him plenty of reasons to give her a wide berth. But it hadn’t stopped him from wondering about her.

“My foreman can supervise when I’m not there and call me if something needs my immediate attention.” He was determined to protect his brother’s paternal rights. “I’m not negotiating with you, Lark.”

A mulish expression settled over her features. “Do you even have a place you can care for her? Where are you living while your ranch house is being rebuilt?”

“A hunting cabin.”

“A cabin?” Lark crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think so. A preemie’s lungs are delicate. She needs to be in a clean, warm environment free from drafts and damp.”

“My parents are staying with friends in Pine Valley. I could bring her there on the days you work.” He made the suggestion knowing it would never fly.

“That would be a terrible imposition on your parents’ friends.”

“Then I’ll watch her at your house.”

Lark’s eyes widened. Her mouth popped open, but she must have recognized the determination on his face, because whatever refusal she’d been about to utter didn’t come. Her facial muscles shifted into unhappy lines.

“I don’t really think...” she began before turning toward the door to the NICU. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to take care of a baby?”

“Some.”

Giving him a doubtful frown, Lark motioned for him to follow her. Her stiff posture demonstrated she wasn’t happy with his determination to be involved with Grace. Too bad. As her uncle, he had as much right to be with the infant as Lark.

In silence they walked down the row of incubators to the crib that held Grace. The anxious burn in Keaton’s chest whenever he visited his niece had faded. Born ten weeks premature at two pounds, two ounces, the baby girl had gained almost three pounds since then and was now free of all sensors, IVs, pressurized oxygen and the feeding tube.

Acting as if Keaton had ceased to exist for her, Lark carefully picked up Grace and settled her into the crook of her left arm. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?”

“She’s doing great,” said Ginger. The nurse on duty was a plump woman in her midforties with keen brown eyes and an engaging smile. “Ready to go home in a few days.”

“I’m really excited about that,” Lark said, adjusting Grace’s pink hat embroidered with the word Miracle.

“Are you ready?”

“I have tomorrow off. I’m going to go shopping for everything.”

“We’re going shopping,” Keaton corrected her, drawing Ginger’s gaze. “Grace is my niece, as well. I’m going to be involved with taking care of her.”

Ginger’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful. Grace is going to need a lot more care than the average baby. I’m glad you’re going to be helping Lark out.” The NICU nurse gave his arm a pat as she moved off to check on another infant.

“It’s premature to talk about your involvement,” Lark muttered as soon as the other nurse was out of earshot. “Grace’s paternity has not yet been determined.”

“Today or tomorrow we’ll have the results and you’ll see she’s my niece as much as yours.” Seeing the way Lark’s mouth tightened, Keaton continued. “I intend to share the responsibility.”

“A lot of men wouldn’t want the responsibility of a preemie.”

“I know Jake would expect me to take care of his daughter.”

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Lark had always struck him as the ultimate wallflower. Quiet and reserved, she watched more than participated. Why had he noticed her at all? Probably because he had similar tendencies. He kept to himself, enjoying the solitude of his cabin beside the small five-acre lake after a hectic day spent managing the ranch.

Her preoccupation with the baby gave him a chance to study her at length. Dressed in pale green scrubs, her wavy blond hair cut in a short bob, she gave off an ignore me vibe. She might have gone unnoticed if she wasn’t so tall. At five feet ten inches, she would have made a great basketball or volleyball player, but she’d been more of a bookworm than an athlete. She and Jake had been classmates, but despite the fact that he’d been secretly dating her sister all through high school, Lark had never been part of the same crowd.

Three years older than Lark, the single year they’d attended the same in high school, Keaton hadn’t had any contact with her, but she’d been extremely intelligent and that intrigued him. With a perfect score on her ACTs and could have had her pick of colleges if she’d wanted to venture out of Texas.

“Can you hold Grace for a second?”

Keaton blinked himself out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“Can you hold Grace?”

“Why?”

Lark’s long lashes fluttered upward as she glanced at him in confusion. “Because she needs to be changed and I need to go get some wipes. This is out.” She pointed to a box on a nearby shelf.

Keaton stared down at Grace with his hands at his sides. She was so tiny. And he was a big guy more accustomed to wrestling with querulous calves than handling fragile things like a five-pound baby.

Lark stood and held Grace out to him with an impatient “here.”

Alarm flashed through him. Keaton took an involuntary step backward. Still staring at Grace’s precious face with its soft, perfect skin, he clasped his hands behind his back, feeling the rough scrape of calluses. It wouldn’t be right to touch her delicate skin with anything so abrasive.

“Keaton?” Lark’s tone had softened. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s really small.” He paused. “And...”

“You’re afraid to hold her.”

“No.”

“How do you expect to help me take care of her when you aren’t comfortable enough to hold her?”

He let a breath hiss out from between his clenched teeth before replying, “I’m going to be fine. I just need a little time to get used to her.”

“No time like the present.” Lark moved into his space, her manner determined. “Give me your left arm.”

He resisted her imperious tone for only as long as it took her to lift her gaze to his. She had the greenest eyes, like spring grass after a week of rain. How had he never noticed how beautiful they were? She raised her eyebrows at him. Moving slowly, giving her plenty of time to change her mind, Keaton let his arm swing forward.

She took ahold of his wrist and placed his arm against his abdomen. Her fingers were warm and light against his skin. His heart shifted off its rhythm.

“You need to support her head.”

Her shoulder bumped against his chest as she placed the delicate bundle in his arms. The top of her head swept beneath his nose, offering him a whiff of whatever shampoo she used. It reminded him of summertime and his mom’s strawberry shortcake. His mouth watered.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” But his protest came too late. Grace lay along his forearm, her tiny body swaddled from chin to toes. The baby couldn’t move, much less roll off his arm, but Keaton rested his right palm lightly on top of her.

“You doing okay?” Lark’s soft lips wore a slight smile as she watched him cradle Grace.

“Fine.” As long as she didn’t fuss or move, he’d be great.

“I’ll understand if you tell me you can’t do this,” Lark said. “Taking care of a baby is hard work.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” Keaton suspected she wanted him to back out. That was the last thing he was going to do. “I can do this. I just have to get used to how small she is.”

“You do have rather large hands.” Lark touched Grace’s cheek with a fingertip. Her hand grazed his, making his skin tingle. “They make her look smaller than she is. But she’s stronger than you might think.”

He had a hard time believing that. Grace picked that second to yawn hugely and open her eyes. Her gaze latched on to his face, the expression wide and startled. Keaton stared back, mesmerized, until her eyes shut again. It wasn’t until that happened that he realized his heart was thudding erratically.

Expecting Lark to laugh at his inexperience, he was surprised to find that she’d moved off several feet. Panic flared for a second. He noticed that Lark was watching him, gauging how he handled the situation. He was far out of his comfort zone. Relax, he told himself. He had to appear comfortable being alone with his niece if he was going to convince Lark that he could take care of the delicate infant.

He shifted Grace a little, learning the feel of her. Once again the baby opened her eyes. This time she let out a strange little grunt. Keaton didn’t know if that was normal or not. He needed to do some research on preemies. A little knowledge would go a long way toward making him feel more confident.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Lark said, coming up alongside him once more.

“Yes, I do.” He shoved aside any lingering doubts about his ability to take care of such a tiny baby. “She grunts.”

“I noticed that. Might have something to do with her acid reflux issues. A lot of preemies suffer from it. Luckily Grace isn’t too bad.”

Another thing for him to worry about. Damn Jake. Where the hell was his brother? Skye and Grace were his responsibility. Keaton stared down at the sleeping baby. Jake’s unavailability disturbed him. It wasn’t like his brother to go off the grid. Something bad must have happened, but Keaton didn’t have a clue where to start looking.

“Here, let me take her.” Lark had stepped into his space once more.

Keaton liked how his body reacted to her nearness. Since Skye’s accident and Grace’s birth, he’d been at the hospital at least a couple times a week to check on them. He’d had plenty of time to notice Lark and indulge his curiosity about her.

“I’ve got her.”

“But she needs to be changed.” She gave him an assessing look. “Have you ever changed a baby before?”

“No. And before you say anything, let me point out that I intend to learn everything there is about taking care of a baby before you have to go back to work.”

“Everything?” She looked doubtful.

“Everything.”

“Why do I believe you?”

“Because like you, I graduated at the top of my class?”

Her lack of surprise at his declaration told Keaton that she’d known this about him. Logic told him her confidence in him would grow if she understood he brought intelligence as well as determination to the table.

“I suppose just about everything can be found on the internet these days,” she agreed.

“So, are you going to walk me through changing her?” Keaton ignored the voice inside his head warning him how tiny and fragile Grace was. If he let any nervousness show, he’d never convince Lark to let him help.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

Two

The ranch house where Lark and Skye had grown up was a sprawling single-story structure with a cathedral ceiling over the enormous, open great room. Lark’s father was an avid hunter, and the walls between the windows and ceiling were covered with trophies of white-tailed deer and bobwhite quail.

Above the dining table hung a chandelier made of antlers. A second one hung above the living room seating area composed of a brown leather couch and love seat. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Set into a sixteen-by-fourteen foot wall and surrounded by large river rock, it took up a corner of the room. As usual the television was on. Lark could tell her father wasn’t home because it wasn’t tuned to a sports program. Instead her mother had on the shopping channel.

Lark’s rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the tile as she went across the room, shrugged out of her wool coat and draped it over one of the dining chairs. Her mother was in the open kitchen. Lark tried to gauge her mother’s mood as she drew near.

“Oh, Lark. Must you wear those scrubs? They do nothing for your figure. And you really should do something about those dark circles under your eyes. They’re not attractive.”

Having just come from a double shift at the hospital because Marsha had called in sick again, Lark couldn’t summon the energy to explain why she looked so tired. “Is that a new lipstick?” she asked. It made her mother happy to talk about herself, and Lark needed her in a good mood.

Vera Taylor smiled, obviously pleased that her daughter had noticed. “Passion’s Promise.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a tube. “It might be a good shade for you. Come closer and let me see.”

Fighting down impatience, Lark let her mother apply the vivid red, knowing it would look ridiculous on her. She rarely wore make-up at all, much less something as eye-catching as ruby lipstick.

“And a little concealer.” Her daughter’s docility had prompted Vera to pull a bag of make-up out of her purse. It was a rare mother-daughter bonding moment. Skye had been the pretty one, the one Vera could relate to. “Some color in your cheeks.”

Vera stepped back and regarded her daughter with something akin to satisfaction. Lark’s chest constricted. No matter how much she loved her mother, Lark had never been completely sure her mother felt the same way about her. Vera’s childhood in San Antonio had been composed of a string of beauty pageants starting when she was one. She’d grown up praised for her beauty and style. Lark was sure it had broken her heart to give birth to a child of average prettiness and no interest in fashion.

Her mother must have thanked heaven when Skye came along. Beautiful and personable, with an abundance of talent. A mini Vera. A doll for her to dress and mold into the perfect pageant princess.

“See, that took me no more than a minute and a half and you look so much better. Imagine what would happen if we did a little mascara and eye shadow. You really should take more care with your appearance. What will people think?”

Considering that her patients in the ICU were unconscious and their family members too distressed to notice anything but their loved ones, Lark doubted that it mattered what she looked like. “I’ll make more of an effort.”

Knowing it would make her mother happy, Lark went into the small bathroom off the entry and checked her appearance. To her amazement, her mother was right. The little bit of makeup had transformed her. She was pretty. Not beautiful like Skye or their mother, but maybe attractive enough to make Keaton give her a second look?

The instant the thought entered her head, Lark banished it. Depending on how her mother responded to Lark’s request to babysit Grace, she might just be stuck dealing with Keaton on a much more regular basis. If that happened, the last thing she needed was to start wondering if she appealed to him.

First of all, there was the hundred and some years of fighting between their families.

Then there was the little problem of whether or not she could trust him. Skye had put her faith in Jake and look what had happened. He’d vanished when she needed him most.

Last, but certainly not least, Keaton’s brusque manner and ruggedness were a little overwhelming. Granted, he’d handled Grace with an acceptable amount of gentleness, but he’d obviously been on his best behavior. Would he be as careful with her?

And would she want him to be?

Swept away by the thought of his large hands skimming over her body, pulling her tight against him as his mouth claimed hers in a vigorous kiss, Lark shuddered in delight. Her skin warmed as the fantasy heated her blood. She could almost feel the scrape of his rough chin against her neck. Desire lanced through her like an electric shock, leaving her knees oddly unsteady.

“Mom,” she called, emerging from the bathroom. “I have a favor to ask you.”

Vera frowned. “I’m not sure this is a good time. Your father is very distressed about the loss of the tree farm and the damage done to the irrigation pipes.”

Lark recognized this tactic. Her mother was always using Tyrone as an excuse to avoid doing things she deemed too great a burden. Ignoring her mother’s broad hint, Lark muscled on.

“Grace gets to leave the hospital in a couple days.”

“So soon?”

“It’s been three months.”

And as far as Lark knew, Vera had only stopped by once. Lark thought about Keaton’s mom, visiting both a child she didn’t fully believe was her granddaughter and the woman who’d been instrumental in taking her son away. Gloria had just as much reason to take her anger out on Skye and the baby, but she’d chosen a path of forgiveness instead.

“Things have been so bad around here, I haven’t noticed how much time has passed.”

“I was wondering if you could help me out with her.”

“I don’t know how I can find the time. There’s so much to do here.”

Lark braced herself to beg. Her parents had always made it hard for her to ask for anything. “Please, Mom. Can’t you help me out until Skye gets better?”

“Are you sure you’re the best one to be taking care of your sister’s baby, Lark?”

“If not me, who else?”

“There’s the father.” Vera arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Has he shown up yet?”

“If you mean Jake...” She didn’t dare defend a Holt to her mother. “I don’t know where he is. His brother hasn’t had any luck locating him.”

“Does that surprise you? None of those people can be trusted.”

“Grace is a Taylor, Mom.” Lark wasn’t comfortable misleading her mother, but she hoped that maybe Vera would be more inclined to help if the conflict with the Holts wasn’t part of the equation. “None of us had heard from Skye in four years. We don’t even know if she and Jake were still together.”

Vera considered this and for a brief second, Lark thought her mother might have forgiven how badly Skye hurt them when she’d run off with a Holt. But then Vera shook her head.

“I heard that brother of his is doing a DNA test. We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”

“Grace is so beautiful, Mom,” Lark said, hoping if she appealed to what her mother valued most that Vera might be persuaded to put aside her hurt and embrace her granddaughter. “She looks exactly like Skye.” Which wasn’t completely true, but hopefully Vera would be so thrilled to have a mini Skye to smother with love that she wouldn’t notice the Holt eyes and bone structure.

“I’m sure she’s quite lovely.” Vera could have been speaking of a stranger’s child for all the warmth she showed. “I can see that you are quiet passionate about taking on the responsibility of your sister’s baby. I just don’t think you realize how challenging it will be with you working full-time. A normal baby is exhausting and she’s bound to have special needs. I’ll speak with your father about helping you out with the child care costs.”

And Lark knew her last hope was gone. Her mother wasn’t ready to forgive Skye for turning her back on her family and would resist warming up to Grace.

“I don’t want a stranger taking care of her,” she told her mother, letting her disappointment show. It was looking pretty certain that her options had dwindled to Keaton.

“She’s had strangers taking care of her for the last three months,” Vera retorted a touch impatiently. “I don’t see the difference.”

The difference was Grace had needed medical attention and the nurses in the NICU were experts in the care of preemies. “I appreciate your offer of financial help, but I really think we owe it to Skye to do the best we can for Grace, and that means having her family take care of her.”

A layer of frost coated Vera’s features at Lark’s mild reproof. Almost immediately she wished she could take back her criticism. No purpose would be served by alienating her mother, but along with regret, Lark noticed a tiny buzz of triumph for having stood up to her mother.

Unfortunately, Lark’s confidence quickly faded as the reality of her situation engulfed her, and she drove home in such a state of disappointment that she didn’t remember Keaton had invited himself on her shopping trip for the baby until she noticed the four-door pickup parked in front of her house.

The clock on her dashboard said quarter after two. She was fifteen minutes late. Lark settled her car in the garage and headed down the driveway to meet up with Keaton.

“I forgot we were getting together today.”

“You look different.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed her.

When his gaze settled on her lips, Lark remembered the makeup her mother had applied. “I went to ask my mother for help with Grace. She thought I looked tired so she put makeup on me.”

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you.”

Nice wasn’t beautiful, but it was better than tired and drawn. And there was something new about the way he stared at her. Something intense and interested that made her pay attention to the flutters in her stomach and the slow heat building in her core.

“Are you heading back to work?” He indicated her scrubs.

Lark shook her head. The slight breeze cooled her skin. “One of my coworkers called in sick and we’re shorthanded as it is. I pulled a double shift.” A sharp wind cut off any further explanation she might have made. “Do you want to come inside?”

“I picked up a few things this morning. I’ll go get them.”

“You did?” Lark wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or dismayed. He was really determined to take care of Grace.

From the backseat of the pickup he unloaded two enormous bags printed with the logo of the local baby store. Lark hastened to open her front door so he could carry his bundles inside.

“What is all this?”

“Bedding, clothes.” Keaton followed Lark into her living room and deposited everything on her couch. He glanced around. “I know you said you hadn’t bought a crib yet. I thought that was something we could do together.”

Curiosity drove her to investigate what he’d chosen. Rather than an ultra-feminine pastel-pink ensemble, he’d chosen pale yellow sheets, bumper, dust ruffle and comforter with fun jungle animals. Lark spied pajamas, bodysuits and pants, tiny socks, bibs and a towel.

“You look surprised,” Keaton said.

“I am. You did a great job. How did you know what to buy?”

“I went online and found a list for what to have on hand when bringing home a baby.”

“She’ll need some diapers. I can get those later today.”

“I already contacted a diaper service.”

“I figured we would just use disposables.”

“Cloth is better for the environment.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with keeping dirty diapers around until they could be picked up.” And the unpleasantness that went along with doing that.

“The person I spoke with said they have a hamper that keeps the smell contained.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your research.”

“I always do.”

Lark was surprised at the resentment brewing in her gut. Why was she annoyed with Keaton for being helpful? After she’d worked back-to-back shifts, she should be relieved that some of the preparations for Grace’s homecoming were done. So what if she wasn’t the smartest person in the room?

Thinking of her double shift reminded Lark just how tired she was. Before she could contain it, an enormous yawn broke free.

“Sorry.”

“You’re tired.”

“Back-to-back shifts are brutal.”

“I can take care of the shopping and get the crib. I’m sure you have a list of everything you still need to do before Grace leaves the hospital.”

While she realized he was only trying to lend a hand, Lark rebelled at the thought of him taking over the preparations. Grace was her responsibility. If she was too tired to shop for her, how was she going to cope once her niece came home?

“No.” Lark gave her head a vehement shake. “I want to pick out the crib and finish up the shopping. It won’t take long. And you’re right. I have a list of what I need.”

She should be annoyed that he’d presumed things about her habits when he knew nothing about her, but she found herself flattered by his accurate read. Few people noticed her much less paid attention to her practices.

A glow bloomed in her chest, banishing her tiredness. She recognized Keaton as the source of her abrupt sense of well-being. His proximity had a disturbing effect on her world. Long ago she’d learned that asking for help was likely to end up in a rebuff. So she’d grown used to muddling along without anyone noticing she needed help much less offering to pitch in. Now she had Keaton insisting on lightening her load and was more than a little afraid to trust what he was offering.

Dropping her gaze to the floor, she said, “I’ll be okay on my own.”

* * *

Stubborn, Keaton noted, just like her father. She was determined to make things more difficult for herself rather than let him help. Pushing down his irritation, he said, “Why don’t I put this stuff away while you change?”

“I’ll take care of it.” She drew near and reached out for the bags. “I’m going to put the crib in my room. The master suite is on the opposite side of the house from the other two bedrooms, and I don’t want her so far away.”

Keaton surrendered the purchases and watched her retreat. As soon as she was out of sight he surveyed his surroundings. The house was a split-floor plan, just as she’d described, with bedrooms on opposite sides of an expansive great room/dining room/kitchen combination. The design was modern; the open flow of the place made it nice for entertaining.

The rooms reflected exactly what he’d expected her style to be. Like him, she preferred furniture that was comfortable rather than stylish. She’d always struck him as practical, but she’d chosen dreamy Texas landscapes for her walls.

Books overflowed the shelves that flanked the fireplace, leaving no room for knickknacks. Or family photos. More books were stacked on the coffee table and each of the side tables. Which wasn’t surprising: his every memory of her had a book in it.

One of the most telling aspects of her décor, and where their taste was drastically different, was the lack of electronics of any kind. That included a television, stereo and video equipment. As rustic as his cabin was, one of the first purchases he’d made before moving in was a forty-inch TV. How could she stand not having such an important connection to the outside world?

“Is something wrong?”

Keaton turned his head and spied her coming his way. She’d traded baggy scrubs for snug jeans that hugged her curves and a dark green sweater with a scoop neck that showed a hint of cleavage.

Knowing he was staring at her in mouthwatering fascination, but unable to help himself, Keaton answered her question. “You don’t have a television.”

“No.” She knotted a scarf around her neck, slipped into her coat and gathered up her purse and keys.

“Any particular reason?” With the most seductive aspects of her form hidden from view, Keaton was able to wrestle his thoughts back into line.

“What’s the point?”

“It’s television.”

She focused a sharp gaze on him. “Mindless entertainment. I prefer to read or bake. I like feeling productive.”

“Not everything on TV is mindless. There are educational programs.” After gesturing her to go first through the doorway, Keaton stepped aside so she could lock the front door. “Some interesting stuff.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she murmured, looking completely unconvinced as he opened the passenger door for her.

His pulse kicked up as she whisked past him. Was his attraction for her going to cause problems? She was already as skittish as a feral cat. If she got any inkling that he craved a taste of her lips, it might ruin the fragile cease-fire they’d established.

Keaton slid behind the wheel. Although he wasn’t much for small talk, he thought engaging Lark in casual conversation would be a good way to build rapport. “You have quite a collection of books. What do you like to read?”

“I alternate between classics and contemporary fiction.”

Hearing her answer, he sighed in frustration. Their taste in books wasn’t going to keep the dialogue flowing easily. “I like biographies and nonfiction.”

She nodded and subsided into silence. Keaton shot her a sideways glance and noticed that she was gripping her purse as if it was a lifeline. He wanted her to relax in his company. If she decided he wasn’t the villain her father made him out to be, he would have an easier time staking his own claim on Grace.

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Keaton tried again. “I downloaded a couple books on preemies to my e-reader in an attempt to figure out what to expect with Grace.”

“At this point her gestational age is that of a newborn. She’s still tiny compared to most, but her need for specialized care is done.”

“I realize that I missed being around for her early days, but the books talked about kangaroo care where the baby is held against her mother’s skin to help with her development.”

Lark nodded. “Because she couldn’t leave the NICU, I would go in before and after my shift and hold her like that.” Her voice took on a husky note. “I wish we could have put her and Skye together, but I did the best I could.”

“You did a great job,” he assured her. “She’s thriving and ready to leave the NICU.” Once again it struck Keaton just how much Lark had been dealing with on her own, and irritation with his brother flared anew. Whatever Lark and Grace needed, he would make sure they were taken care of. “But I think you’ve single-handedly shouldered the burden for too long. From everything I’ve read, preemies are more work than an average newborn, which means you’re going to be even more exhausted. Let me help.”

“I would be lying if I told you I was completely convinced of my ability to take care of Grace on my own. Frankly, I’m terrified of failing. I owe it to Skye to do what is best for Grace.”

The level of conviction in Lark’s voice resonated with Keaton.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do for Jake.” And in his brother’s absence, he intended to protect Jake’s rights. The Taylors needed to understand that Grace was also a Holt—Keaton was convinced of that, with or without the DNA test—and that they had an equal say in her care.

“We share a common goal, then.” She stared hard at the road before them. “I’m sorry if I’ve been suspicious of your motives, but I have to tell you that all my life I’ve had to listen to how untrustworthy your family is.”

“It’s not true.”

“I’m sure where the rest of the world is concerned it’s not, but when it comes to my family, there’s been so much strife over the years I can’t shake my uneasiness. And then there’s the fact that I haven’t spoken with Skye since she left Royal. I don’t know what happened between her and Jake. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing letting you be involved with Grace.”

He wasn’t sure what had happened between Skye and Lark, but he had a feeling the Taylor-Holt feud had caused the sisters’ relationship to suffer the same the way his and Jake’s had. Whatever had happened, there was no question that Lark bore her sister no lasting ill will. Her dedication to Skye and Grace was unflinching.

“I assure you—” His phone began to ring before he could finish the thought. Not recognizing the number, he keyed the truck’s hands-free option and answered the call. “Keaton Holt.”

“Mr. Holt, this is Sabrina from Dr. Boyle’s office.” The doctor who had administered the DNA test.

Keaton glanced Lark’s way and spied her somber green eyes on him. “What are the results?”

“The kinship index was well over 1.0. You and Grace show a strong chance of being related. That’s a very good indication that your brother is her father.”

Because they hadn’t been able to collect Jake’s DNA, they’d had to test Skye and Keaton for an uncle comparison. It wasn’t as definitive as a paternity test, but the results were strong and should satisfy all but the most skeptical.

“Thank you, Sabrina. Please send the results to me by email.”

“Of course, Mr. Holt. And congratulations.”

Keaton ended the call and waited for Lark’s reaction. They were nearing the furniture store where she intended to get Grace’s crib. In a minute there would be no time for private discussion.

“That’s it, then,” she said, her voice low and without inflection.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Grace looks like Jake.”

Her admission annoyed him. “But you fought me on the DNA test.”

“I didn’t want to believe my sister and her baby had been abandoned by your brother.” Her eyes hardened. “How could he be so unreachable? They need him.”

“They have us,” Keaton reminded her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to take care of my niece. And your sister.”

“I spoke with my mother today. She and my dad are busy because of the damaged tree farm and other things.” She ducked her head, her posture defeated. “I think I’m going to need help taking care of Grace.”

He was saddened, but not surprised, that the Taylors had chosen not to pitch in to care for their granddaughter. Skye had been disowned by her parents when she left with Jake. The Taylors were obstinate and inflexible. It was their intolerance that had forced their daughter to run away from Royal and further aggravate an already bitter war between their families.

He wanted to touch Lark’s hand, to reassure her that he was on her side. “You and I are going to make a great team.”

“That remains to be seen,” she remarked, some of her prickliness returning. “I’m dreading the scene when my parents find out you and I are working together to care for Grace.”

If that bothered her, she was really going to hate where his thoughts had taken him over the last twenty-four hours. “You’re doing the right thing for Grace, and that’s what counts.”

“I hate having to choose between being a good daughter and a good sister and aunt.” Lark worried her fingers along her jacket’s zipper. “I suppose you think it’s stupid that a twenty-seven-year-old woman is afraid of upsetting her parents.”

From what he’d experienced of Tyrone Taylor’s temper, Keaton understood Lark’s desire to avoid her father’s wrath.

He guided the truck into the furniture store parking lot and took a spot not far from the front door. Keaton shut off the engine and sat in silence for a long moment. He was overwhelmed by a strong desire to protect her from anyone who made her unhappy, but she wouldn’t appreciate his opinion about her parents even if all he was doing was defending her.

At last he spoke. “We can’t let this rift between our families keep us from doing what is best for Grace.”

“You’re absolutely right.” She nodded fiercely. “Let’s go buy some baby furniture.”

If Keaton had expected to spend the next two hours bored to tears while Lark shopped, he was pleasantly surprised when she went straight to a crib in the middle row and gave it a quick nod.

“I want this one,” she told the sales clerk who approached less than a minute later. “As well as that changing table.”

“I’ll get it all written up. When do you want it delivered?”

“The sooner the better.”

“Let me check the schedule. We have tomorrow afternoon available.”

Lark frowned. “I have to work.”

“That will be fine,” Keaton said.

“But I won’t be home.”

“I’ll meet them.” He could see immediately that she was uncomfortable with the idea. “You might as well get used to having me in your house. I’m going to be taking care of Grace there, after all.”

“You’re right.” Lark shook her head. “I haven’t had to share my space with anyone since buying my house two years ago.”

“You’re never lonely being on your own?”

“Sometimes.” She offered him a tiny smile. “Mostly I love it. I walk in my front door and don’t have to worry about anyone but me.”

“Bringing Grace home is going to change that.”

“I don’t mean it the way it sounds. It’s just that with Skye coming home, my parents are stressed out and things around the hospital have been really challenging since the tornado. I moved from the surgery team to ICU so I could be closer to Skye and am having a hard time with the nurses I’m working with. Everything I say gets twisted around. I feel as if I’m constantly walking on eggshells. It’s exhausting.”

“Sounds like you need a break.”

“I’m taking a week off when Grace comes home.” She gave a happy sigh. “I’ll need it to get her settled in.”

With the crib paid for and the delivery arrangements finalized, Keaton and Lark headed back to his truck. He scanned Lark’s face as she buckled herself in. She looked worn to the bone.

“Can I buy you dinner before I take you home?”

She gave him a weary smile. “I’m too tired to be much company.”

“How about takeout?”

“Are you always this persistent?”

Yes, when something was important to him, and Lark’s well-being was rapidly climbing his priority list. “I don’t feel right taking you home without feeding you.”

Besides, he wanted to spend more time in her company. She intrigued him. They’d been neighbors most of their lives, their families had been at odds with each other for generations. He knew little about her beyond what was common knowledge, but had long harbored a sense that they could be kindred spirits if circumstances were different.

“Obviously you are not going to take no for an answer and I’m too tired to argue.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “But just because I gave in this once, don’t think you can get your way every time.”

He felt a smile tug at his lips as he started the car, but refrained from pointing out that ninety-nine percent of the time people did as he indicated because he was right. She’d figure that out soon enough.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.