Natural Born Daddy (6 page)

“Don't you ever sit in a chair?” he grumbled.

“Sure,” she said easily. “At my desk. At yours, this is better. So, what's it going to be today? Roses? Candy? Balloons? A trip to the moon?”

Jordan sighed. He was running out of ideas. “What would have worked on you?”

“I'm easy. I'd have caved in after the first two or three dozen roses,” she said readily. “Of course, DeVonne did have to get a little creative. He actually told me he loved me. Have you mentioned anything along those lines to Kelly?”

He could feel patches of color climbing into his cheeks. Ginger's expression told him she could interpret exactly what that meant. She regarded him with a mix of disgust and pity.

“You haven't, have you? Jordan Adams, you don't deserve a woman like Kelly. You're some kind of throwback to another era. You think you're doing her some great favor just by asking, don't you?”

“Of course not.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Work on that delivery, boss. It's not believable. You probably told her something romantic like how she'd never have to work another day in her life or how she could attend teas with all the hoity-toity people in Houston society, am I right?”

It was close enough that Jordan could feel another rush of blood up the back of his neck. He scowled at his secretary. “Don't you have work to do?”

“Just taking care of your love life. Once you make up your mind what you're sending today, I'll place the order. Then I'm out of here. I'm taking the afternoon off.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “DeVonne is taking me in-line skating tonight. It's our anniversary. I intend to look sexy as hell for the occasion.”

“In-line skating? And you call me unromantic,” Jordan muttered.

“We met in-line skating,” Ginger informed him huffily. “Bumped smack into each other. Believe me, when you smack into a professional linebacker, you're down for the count. When I finally caught my breath, I took one look into those big blue eyes of his and it whooshed straight out of me again. The man is awesome.”

She wagged her pencil at him, obviously hinting she was ready to take notes. “So, what's it going to be today?” she asked again. “Try to be original, boss. Even I'm getting bored and I'm not on the receiving end.”

“More roses, I suppose,” he said, sounding thoroughly defeated even to his own ears.

Ginger shook her head. “Enough with the roses already. She's bound to be sick of them. I think I'll make it orchids. And if you don't have anything better to do this afternoon, I'd suggest you go to the mall and pick out some outrageously expensive perfume to send tomorrow.”

He stared at her blankly. “What kind?”

“Something French and sexy. Something that will drive you wild when you get a whiff of it.”

He thought Kelly smelled pretty good as it was, fresh and clean. He wasn't sure he wanted her to smell like a Paris whorehouse. This might be another of those times when it would be best to go with his own instincts and ignore Ginger's. “I'll look around,” he promised.

An hour later, after wandering through a mall indecisively, he walked past a lingerie shop. He stopped in his tracks and stared openmouthed at the display in the window. All that silk and lace would definitely drive a man wild. He tried to imagine Kelly's reaction if she opened a box and found something like that inside. Would she slap him upside the head? Laugh at him? Or would her imagination kick into overdrive the way his was doing? Would she finally realize that he truly thought of her as a sexy, provocative woman? He figured it was worth the risk.

After glancing around to see if he was being observed, he sucked in a deep breath and marched inside. He'd never seen so many silky underthings in his life. Each struck him as more daring and sensual than the next.

“May I help you?” a girl barely out of her teens inquired perkily. A Ginger-in-training, he decided.

“I'd like to buy something for a lady.”

She grinned. “I'm relieved,” she said. “I doubt we'd have anything in your size.”

The unexpected joke, which also reminded him of his secretary, released some of his anxiety. “I don't have a clue about sizes and stuff like that,” he admitted.

“Is she about my size? Bigger? Smaller?”

“A little taller,” he said without hesitation, then paused. The rest seemed downright intimate to be discussing with this total stranger. She was watching him expectantly, though. She was probably used to men fumbling around with embarrassment.

“Maybe a little bigger…” He cleared his throat. “On top,” he added in a choked voice.

She grinned again without batting an eye. “Got it. And on the bottom?”

He thought of Kelly's cute, sassy little behind. “Curvy,” he said. “But not too big.”

The teenager grinned. “Okay. Now, did you want a teddy? A negligee? Bra? Panties?”

He was stymied. His gaze went back to the item that had drawn his attention to the window. Rexanne had owned something similar, but seeing her in it had never seemed to stir him the way just the thought of seeing Kelly wearing one did. He had no idea what it was called.

“What's that?” he asked.

“A teddy. It's from France. Very chic.”

Ginger had said he ought to get something from France that was capable of driving him wild. Another glance at the teddy told him that ought to do it. No question about it. With Kelly in it—or mostly out of it—he wouldn't be able to catch his breath for a month.

“I'll take that.”

“In red, black, pink or blue?”

“All of them.”

The clerk's eyes lit up, which hinted that he might have made a mistake not asking about the price. He didn't care. “Can you wrap them?”

“Absolutely.”

Fifteen minutes later he exited the store with his elegantly wrapped package. An hour later he was driving straight toward west Texas at a speed that openly defied state law. This was one gift he intended to give her in person. Tonight. And he was too damned impatient to waste time waiting around in an airport to be on his way. Besides, a long drive was the only way he could think of to cool off before he scared her to death by making it plain exactly how badly he wanted her.

* * *

The pounding on the front door woke Kelly from a sound sleep. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was well after two in the morning. She automatically sniffed the air for the smell of smoke. A fire was the only thing she could think of that would cause all this uproar at this hour. The air smelled summer fresh with just a hint of the flowers she'd planted in pots on the porch below.

Grabbing her old chenille robe from the foot of the bed, she belted it tightly around her and glanced outside. She spotted Jordan's car parked haphazardly in front of the house. So much for the who, she thought wearily. All that remained was the why. Why would he be carrying on like a lunatic in the middle of the night? She'd sent him a polite thank-you note for the gifts. Maybe he hadn't considered it adequate, but this was hardly an appropriate hour to discuss her lack of manners.

She hurried down the stairs, pausing only to reassure a sleepy-eyed Dani that there was no problem.

“Go on back to bed, sweetie. It's just Jordan.”

“He sounds mad or something.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.” In fact, she was going to wring his stupid neck.

Downstairs, she switched on the porch light and opened the door a crack, determined not to admit him. “What do you want?” she demanded, noting that he was still wearing a suit and tie. He had at least loosened the tie. Obviously he'd driven all the way across the state straight from work.

He shoved a huge box toward her. It wouldn't fit through the crack. “I brought you this.”

The box was intriguing with its gold paper and fancy bow. Still, Kelly determinedly wrapped her arms around her middle and refused to take it. “Jordan, this has to stop.”

Her insistent tone seemed to totally bemuse him. He regarded her with evident confusion. “Why?”

“Because I cannot be bought.”

Shock registered on his handsome features. “I'm not trying to buy you,” he swore. “I'm trying to…”

Words clearly failed him. Kelly could understand why. There was hardly another interpretation for what he'd been doing. “Buy me,” she supplied.

“No,” he insisted. “I'm trying to court you.”

Her heart skittered wildly. “Oh, Jordan,” she murmured, feeling her insides turn to mush. “Please don't do this to me.”

His gaze settled on her and a once-familiar warmth spread through her.

“Could I come in so we can discuss this?” he asked.

Kelly did not want him in the house, not with her resolve wavering and his determination solidifying.
“It's the middle of the night. I have fences to mend in the morning.”

“I'll help,” he promised.

“When was the last time you mended a fence?”

“Not that long ago,” he shot back. “I was raised on a ranch, you know. There's almost nothing I haven't done.”

“And hated,” she reminded him. “That's why you couldn't leave White Pines fast enough.”

“If you're going to analyze me, could we do it over coffee? I'm beat.”

“If you're that tired, go home to White Pines.”

“Is there some reason you don't want me in the house?” he inquired, studying her with amusement. “You aren't afraid I'm going to persuade you to say yes, are you?”

That was exactly what she was afraid of, but she refused to admit it. She opened the door wider. “Come on in. You get one cup of coffee and a half hour of my time,” she said firmly. “That's it.”

He grinned. “Whatever you say.”

He was already stripping off his tie on his way to the kitchen. He unbuttoned his collar, exposing a hint of the dark hair on his chest. He sat down, elbows on the table, and watched as she started the coffee. Kelly could feel his gaze on her. When she was sure she was totally composed, thoroughly immune to his charm, she turned toward him.

The speculative, heated look in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. Nothing, she decided, could have prepared her for that. He looked as if he wanted her, as if he truly desired her, not just as if she were an acquisition he was considering to complete his life.
It was a turn of events she definitely hadn't considered.

“Can I talk you into opening your present?” he asked in a slow, lazy tone that made her pulse race.

“No,” she said in a rush, her gaze fixed on that lavish box with its fancy wrapping.

“It won't bite,” he assured her.

“Jordan, I do not want your presents.”

“Not even if giving them to you makes me happy?”

She shook her head. “I should have guessed. We're talking your needs here, not mine.”

“You have no idea what I need,” he commented, a challenging glint in his eyes. “Want to know?”

Kelly swallowed hard. “I don't think so.”

“I'll tell you anyway.”

He pulled the box toward him and slipped the ribbon off. He slid a finger under the wrapping paper and flipped it away. Then with the slow, tantalizing timing of a stripper, he lifted the top of the box. Kelly couldn't have shifted her gaze away if her life had depended on it.

He folded back the layers of tissue paper and hooked a finger through a narrow strap of red silk. As he lifted his hand, the sexiest, most exquisite teddy she had ever seen emerged from the box. She felt his gaze on her, gauging her reaction. She couldn't stop looking at that obviously outrageously expensive scrap of lace and silk. She thought of all the plain cotton underthings in her drawers upstairs. She wanted that teddy with every feminine fiber of her being. She stared at it, trying to hide her longing.

That,
she thought, swallowing hard, was what he saw when he looked at her? When had he stopped
thinking of her as denim and plaid? When had he stopped looking at her as a pal and begun noticing her as a woman?

“It's…beautiful,” she said in a choked voice, reaching out to skim her fingers over the silk. She jerked her hand back as if that red-as-flame material were just as hot as any blaze, except perhaps the one inside her.

“There are more,” he said, dropping the teddy he held into a pool of red on the table.

Sinful black followed, then a wild, hot shade of pink. The last was a vivid, sapphire blue. Kelly loved them all. Never in her life had she owned anything quite so provocative. Her wardrobe of underwear tended toward practical cotton, with a few scraps of lace and silk for special occasions, but there was nothing,
nothing
like this. It hadn't seemed necessary since she and Paul had split. Indulgences were something she couldn't afford.

“Where on earth would I wear them?” she murmured, even as she clutched them to her.

“Why not here?” he asked. “The thought of one of these under your jeans and an old plaid shirt gives me goose bumps.”

“It's not very practical,” she said.

“Not everything in life has to be practical,” he reminded her.

“It does when you're trying to keep a ranch afloat.”

“Then think of me as the impractical side of your life.” He gestured around the kitchen with its faded wallpaper, old appliances and huge oak table. “All of this represents reality. Let me fulfill your dreams.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the sweet, tempting suggestion. “Jordan, sometimes you say the most incredible things,” she said.

He seemed alarmed that she was crying. His finger shook as he wiped away the dampness on her cheeks. “Sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“I know,” she said, crying harder, then laughing at herself. “It's so silly. You're making it so hard for me to go on saying no.”

“That's the idea.”

“One of us has to be practical here. Obviously it's not going to be you. Jordan, it wouldn't work,” she repeated for what seemed the hundredth time. This time, though, even she could tell there was a lot less conviction behind the declaration.