Cowboy Daddy (2 page)

“Why?” she asked, fighting the urge to step back.

“Laurel is having some problems right now and—”

“What’s wrong? Is she sick? Tell me what I can do.”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“But it does. I’m her—”

He grabbed her shoulders. Strong fingers bit into her. “Don’t you dare say it. You’re
not
her mother.”

She wanted to contradict him, but she knew he spoke the truth. She’d given up all rights to that title the day she’d given up her child. Another tear rolled down her face.

He briefly tightened his hold on her, then released her. He cursed under his breath. “Ms. Baker—”

She turned away and fumbled for the box of tissue in the bottom drawer of her desk. She glanced at him.

Jake Masters looked as uncomfortable and confused as she felt. “I need a drink.”

She wiped her face, then glanced down at the streak of makeup and a black smudge staining the white tissue. “Me, too.” She pointed to the center cabinet in the bookcase. “Please pour me one of whatever you’re having. I’ll be right back.”

She escaped through the door opposite the bookcase and into the small powder room off her office. When she was safely alone, Anne braced her forearms against the vanity and exhaled. Her whole body ached, as if she’d been beaten and left for dead. Her eyes burned and her hands still trembled. She’d thought she’d been prepared for this meeting.

“Not very,” she muttered softly as she forced herself to stand upright.

After clicking on the overhead light, she stared into the mirror. The summer humidity had already done its damage to her hair as the sleek pageboy crinkled into an unruly mass of waves. Mascara and eye shadow collected below her eyes, and what was left of her lipstick didn’t begin to cover her mouth.

“Good thing he didn’t bring Laurel. Seeing me like this would probably scare her back to—”

She paused in the middle of turning on the faucet. Back to where? She didn’t know where her daughter lived. Didn’t know where she’d grown up or what she looked like or if—

She closed her eyes. To see her, to hold her, just once, she prayed silently. One time. To look into her face. To know that she was all right.

Anne swallowed and blinked away fresh tears. After opening the single drawer on the right of the sink, she took out her emergency makeup kit and used a headband to pull her hair away from her face. She always got red and puffy when she cried, but it could all be cured with a little cold water and a lot of denial.

* * *

J
ake stared at the shot of brandy, swore briefly, then tossed it back with a single gulp. The fiery liquid burned down to his stomach. He filled the snifter again,

but this time he carried it over to the coffee table in front of the leather couch. He set the glass next to the one he’d poured for Anne, then looked around the room.

He knew all about executive offices. She was one step away from the prized corner slot. A high-powered lady on her way up. She’d come a long way from that tiny west Texas town. She’d probably forgotten all about her little mistake in high school. He must have shocked her when he’d called. The tearful scene today had been a nice touch. He shook his head. If he had his way, he would walk out that door and never come back. She didn’t deserve to know his daughter. But Laurel wasn’t giving him a choice.

Why now? he wondered for the hundredth time. Why this? He’d asked Laurel, had argued with her, but she’d refused to listen. Meeting her birth mother—he hated that phrase—had become the only thing she cared about. He didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. Laurel wasn’t grown-up yet, but she wasn’t the little girl who had spent so many evenings curled up on his lap. Was he making a mistake?

He paced the area between the coffee table and the window. She was his daughter. And Ellen’s. Only Ellen was gone. It was up to him to do what was right and to protect her. Especially from Anne Baker.

The side door opened and Anne stepped out. She’d cleaned up her face. Except for the slight redness around her eyes, no one would know she’d been crying. Probably had it down to an art form.

She walked over to him. “We have a lot of things to learn about each other. Laurel wanting to meet me must have been a shock for you, as well. I know I haven’t been a part of her life, but you must believe I only want what’s best for her. Let’s start over.” She offered him her hand.

Jake stared down at her. Unlike Ellen, who had stood only four inches shorter than his six foot one, Anne Baker’s head barely skimmed his chin. He didn’t want to shake hands, he didn’t want to be friendly, he didn’t want to do a damn thing but get the hell out of here.

He hesitated long enough to make her uncomfortable, but she didn’t back down. Light blue eyes met his, refusing to look away. She’d put mascara on her top lashes, but the bottom ones were pale. He could see freckles across the bridge of her nose.

It wasn’t politeness or his mother’s training that caused him to reach out and engulf her small fingers in his. It was the memory of Laurel staring up at him, confused and scared and desperate to find something—and someone—to belong to.

As he took her hand, he felt it. A jolt of electricity flashed up his arm, igniting a spark that flared low in his belly He fought to steady himself. The anger inside fed on the heat and burned hotter. She pumped his arm once. He withdrew from her and retreated to the edge of the couch.

When she sat at the far end, he lowered himself down to the leather seat and picked up the drink he’d poured. Instead of gulping down the brandy, he stared at the liquid.

He’d sensed it—the attraction. From the moment he’d walked into this room. Whether it was scent or instinct or some great cosmic joke, he didn’t know. But he did know the meaning of that jolt. Ellen had been gone two years. In all that time, he’d never felt the surge of need, had never wanted to—

He looked at Anne Baker. She sat in the corner of the soft leather sofa. The supple material surrounded her, the light peach color highlighted the pale red of her hair and made her skin appear translucent. Oh, she’d planned this right down to the slight gap in her navy suit jacket that allowed him to see the lacy edge of her blouse.

“How much do I have to pay you to meet with Laurel?” he asked abruptly.

She gaped at him. “What?” Fury straightened her spine and darkened her pale blue eyes. It shot out at him, heading straight for his heart.

Unperturbed, Jake took a sip of his drink and rested one arm on the back of the sofa. He didn’t trust her. She’d disappeared from her daughter’s life once already. Why should anything be different now?

“Mr. Masters, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I agreed to see you because I care about—”

He stiffened, but she stumbled on without saying “my.”

“—your daughter. I don’t see what money has to do with it.” The fury abated. Her full mouth trembled slightly. “I just want to see her and t-talk to her.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Why would I lie?”

“You took money easy enough the last time.”

She flushed. The bright color didn’t complement her freckles or her hair. “It was necessary. I needed it to pay the medical expenses. My mother couldn’t afford insurance.”

A poor girl with a struggling single mother. He didn’t want to buy into the lie. The point was she had taken a large sum of money. He frowned, trying to remember the report he and Ellen had read so many years ago. Had Anne Baker had a father? He vaguely recalled the mention of the man running off. Ellen had said that was why she’d gotten pregnant in the first place. Jake had told his wife it was more likely that Anne Baker hadn’t bothered to say no some night in the back of a pickup.

He leaned forward. “Just so we understand each other. I’ve checked with my attorney. You have no legal or financial rights to me or my child.”

She reached for her glass of brandy. When she picked up the snifter, her hand shook so badly the liquid sloshed up the sides. She set it back down and looked at him. Pain straightened her mouth. “I know.”

“And?”

“And what, Mr. Masters? You’re the one who contacted
me.
You had to go through several people to get my name and number. I’d left the channels open because I wanted Laurel to be able to find me if she ever wanted to.” She smoothed her pleated navy skirt, then clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. “So far you’ve bullied me and accused me of wanting your money. Anything else you need to get off your chest before you tell me about the problems you’re having with Laurel and what I can do to help?”

He would have walked out the door. He was in fact ready to leave, except she raised her head and her chin jutted forward defiantly Recognition clawed at his gut and with it, pain. Laurel stood up to him much the same way. She squared her shoulders and tilted up her head until her chin thrust out. With her hands planted on her hips, she would say, “Dad,” stretching the word out to two syllables.

Until this past summer, he’d thought the gesture cute. But now, between the tears and stormy arguments, the door slamming, the threats, he didn’t know what to do anymore. Ellen could have guided him, but Ellen was gone. He’d come here because he had nowhere else to go. And because he would do anything for Laurel, no matter the cost to him.

He rose to his feet and walked to the window. The view of the city stretched out before him. He ignored it. Turning to face the woman, he shifted until the afternoon sun hit her full in the face. He knew the light at his back would keep his expression in shadow. That’s what he wanted. For Laurel’s sake he had to know everything Anne Baker thought, dreamed or lied about.

“I told you my wife passed away two years ago,” he said abruptly.

Anne watched him warily but didn’t speak.

“Laurel took her death pretty hard. They’d always been close. She started running with a bad crowd.”

The corner of Anne’s mouth twitched slightly, as if a spasm of pain had caught her off guard. This was hard for her, he realized, then squashed any thought of compassion.

He folded his arms over his chest and continued. “We moved recently. It seemed the best solution for both of us. Laurel hasn’t adjusted to our new home yet. She misses her friends. I’m sure that’s why in the past couple of months she’s started talking about her birth mother. She wants to meet you.”

“As easy as that?” She rose to her feet and approached him. “Why don’t I believe you? It’s been thirteen years. Tracking me down is obviously the last thing you wanted to do. Why did you agree to this?”

She was close enough that he could feel the heat of her body He told himself to ignore it, but he couldn’t. Something flickered in her pale blue eyes. It took him a minute to identify the emotion, then he realized why. He’d never seen an open wound before—nothing as raw and exposed as the haunted emptiness that flashed through her eyes. She looked away quickly, then back, and by then, the feelings had been shuttered. But he’d seen them. It was her pain that allowed him to speak the truth.

“I didn’t handle Ellen’s death any better than Laurel did,” he said. “Her grandfather, Ellen’s father, also fell apart.” He thought about his last conversation, then forced the older man’s harsh words from his mind. “We’ve all spent the past two years missing her. I thought moving would make it better for Laurel and me. Get her away from those kids and bring the two of us closer together.

“But it hasn’t?” she asked.

“No. If anything, it’s worse. She didn’t want to move and now she hates the new place. About two months ago there was some program on TV about adopted kids finding their birth mothers.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to the bookcase.

“She knew then?”

“Yeah. We talked about it from the beginning. She probably doesn’t remember not knowing. Anyway, after this show, she started mentioning that she wanted to find her—you.” He studied the titles of the books, seeing the words, but not really reading them or understanding what they said. Just thinking about Laurel made the knot in his gut double in size. She was his baby—he couldn’t lose her. But she was slipping away before his eyes. Day by day she pulled back until he worried he wouldn’t be able to reach her ever again.

“She seems a little young to make that kind of decision,” Anne said, from somewhere behind him.

He didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. Compassion would be more than he could handle, and triumph, well, he didn’t want to distrust her any more than he did.

“She ran away.”

Silence.

“She was gone overnight. Hid out in a neighbor’s barn. When we found her, she was fine, but it made me realize she wasn’t kidding. That’s when I called the attorney.” He fingered the thick volumes. Something about zoning laws, he noticed. “Just meet with her one time. That’s all she wants. Then we’ll be out of your way. “

I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“How about dinner tomorrow night?” he asked.

“W-where—” she had to clear her throat”—where would you like to meet?”

Not the hotel, he thought, knowing he was being a jerk but not able to help feeling he had to protect his own turf.