Natural Born Daddy (8 page)

“Can't deny that,” he said agreeably. “But while I'm here, you might as well let me pitch in.”

She rocked back on her haunches and sighed. The look she turned on him was filled with exasperation and resignation. “On one condition.”

He grinned. “I love it when you bargain.”

She fought a smile and eventually succumbed. “Do you have any idea what a perverse man you are?”

“Is that good?”

“I've certainly never considered it to be a desirable attribute.”

“Then I'll change,” he promised.

“Pardon me if I don't hold my breath. As for that condition, you will not under any circumstances bring up that ridiculous proposal while Dani's in the vicinity. Got it?” she asked, regarding him with a defiant lift of her chin.

“Why not?”

“Isn't that obvious? I don't want her getting ideas about the two of us. She'll only be disappointed.”

Jordan glanced up and searched for some sign of Dani. The fence line apparently forgotten, she was gathering wildflowers. She had an armload. He was struck by a sense of déjà vu.

“Looks as if she has your taste in floral displays,” he commented, directing Kelly's attention to her daughter. As he did, he realized where he'd gone wrong. He'd been trying to woo Kelly the same way he would court those shallow, grasping socialites in Houston. Kelly wasn't a hothouse-flower kind of woman. Bluebells or daisies would have pleased her more.

Now that the realization had come to him, he saw that it had always been true. Her favorite gifts as a teenager hadn't been the fancy ones he and his brothers and their friends brought to her birthday
parties. She'd always loved most the ones her father and mother had made for her, gifts that had come from the heart.

What could he give her now that would have the same kind of meaning? He studied her as she watched her daughter, saw the delight and love shining in her eyes, and recalled how often she'd worried out loud to him about the absence of Paul Flint in Dani's life. “She needs her father,” she had said more than once.

Jordan wasn't convinced that anyone on earth needed a man like Paul Flint, but Kelly's point had registered just the same. She wanted her daughter to have a daddy. Even his father had seen that.

If Jordan could prove to her that he was suited for that role, if he could give her what she wanted most for her child, maybe Kelly would finally accept the idea that she needed him as a husband, as well.

* * *

Kelly watched as the sun beat down on Jordan's bare shoulders. He'd stripped off his shirt an hour or so before and she hadn't gotten a thing done since. Every once in a while she managed to tear her gaze away after giving herself a stern lecture about turning into a sex-starved divorcée, but in general she found the play of his gleaming muscles entrancing.

How on earth did he stay so fit sitting in an office all day long? she wondered. His shoulders and chest were thicker than she'd recalled, no longer an adolescent boy's body, but a man's. An intriguing line of dark hair arrowed down his washboard-flat stomach and vanished beneath the snap of his faded, snug jeans.

For years now she had forbidden herself to study him with so much carnal fascination. First of all, she had been married and she would have died before allowing herself even a hint of disloyalty toward a man she'd belatedly discovered didn't deserve it.

Then, more recently, it had seemed like a very bad idea to allow her old feelings for Jordan to stir to life again. She hadn't needed the pain of another rejection. He'd never given her a second glance during all those years when she had worn her heart on her sleeve. There was no reason to believe his feelings toward her had changed.

* * *

Now, though, with his proposal on the table—albeit for all the wrong reasons—she felt she had a right to study him from his windblown hair to his dusty boots. The sight of that expensive snakeskin layered with barnyard dirt made her smile. This was the old Jordan, the one she'd missed, the one who didn't give a hang about appearances. The most rebellious of the brothers who'd filled the days of the lonely, only child next door, allowing her to tag along with them and later to compete with them as an equal.

“What are you looking at so intently?” he inquired, his voice laced with amusement.

She could feel herself blushing to the roots of her hair. “I was just worried you were going to mar that beautiful expanse of chest.”

His gaze settled on her. “Would you have kissed it to make it better? It might have been worth it.”

Dazed by the very idea, she slowly shook her head. “I don't think so,” she said in a choked voice.

“Why not?”

“Bad idea,” she mumbled, forcing herself to look away.

“What was that?” he taunted.

She stared at him defiantly. “I said you're a flirt and a tease and proper women aren't safe around you.”

He nodded seriously. “I thought it might be something like that.”

“Don't sound so proud of yourself.”

He winked at her. “I'm not the only one around here for whom pride is a character defect.”

“Jordan, I…” Her voice trailed off. There was no point in arguing with him, no point in trying to explain that pride wasn't keeping her from accepting his proposal. It just wouldn't work. She couldn't marry a man she loved so desperately and spend the rest of her life pretending that she didn't.

Still, knowing that the one thing she'd always dreamed about—marrying Jordan—was finally within her reach and yet so far away, filled her with wistfulness.

She was so lost in imagining a life with Jordan that she never noticed that the sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon in a blaze of orange. When she felt a shadow fall over her, she looked up and saw Jordan staring down at her. He'd shrugged into his shirt, but left it unbuttoned. The impish gleam that had been in his eyes all day had given way to a look that was far hotter and more dangerous.

When he held out his hand to assist her up, Kelly briefly considered ignoring it. Something inside her, though, longed for some contact, no matter how innocent. His earlier inspection of her arm had made her heart pound. Her blood had sizzled with the
memory of his quick, unexpected kiss on the tip of her nose and, despite her best intentions, she wanted him to repeat it.

No, she corrected, what she wanted was a repeat of that spine-tingling kiss they'd shared in her kitchen a month ago. There had been the kind of magic in that kiss she could almost believe in. It was the kind of magic that could make a woman forget that she'd ever been betrayed by a man. It was the kind that inspired wonder and hope for the future. It was the dangerous kind.

Sighing, she put her hand in his and let him help her up. Her muscles ached. Her eyes were scratchy from dust and exhaustion. Her nose felt sunburned, despite repeated applications of lotion and the hat that she'd tried to keep on but had tossed aside more than once as a nuisance.

“Tired?” Jordan asked, his gaze warm and filled with concern.

“A bit,” she admitted, wondering at the expression in his eyes that said he thought she was beautiful, despite what she knew to be the truth after a long day of hard work under a hot sun.

“Then I'll take charge of the rest of the night. Shower and change, then you and I and Dani will go into town for pizza.”

She stared at him in openmouthed astonishment. She doubted Jordan had dined on pizza since he'd discovered French cuisine and four-star restaurants. And he had never, ever, indicated the slightest desire to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with her daughter.

“You want to take both of us into town for pizza,” she repeated, not bothering to hide her incredulity.

“You haven't changed that much, have you? You still love pizza?”

“Of course, but…”

“And Dani?”

“It's her favorite.”

“Well, then, it's all settled. I'll be back to get you in an hour.” He dropped another one of those innocuous pecks on her nose and headed for his car, leaving her staring after him in bemusement.

Exactly when, she wondered, had her old buddy—steady, safe, reliable Jordan—become so unpredictable? One thing was for certain, the evidence that he had was definitely mounting up.

T
he aroma of garlic and oregano, of tomato sauce and spicy Italian sausage filled the tiny pizza parlor in town. Kelly had taken Dani to DiPasquali's Italian Kitchen only occasionally. The visits had been a rare treat on their tight budget. Even so, the old wooden booths with their red vinyl seats, the scarred tables and red-checked napkins were very familiar. They hadn't changed at all since she and Jordan and their friends had come here as teenagers. Just walking through the door evoked all sorts of fond memories.

The owners were the same, as well. Anthony and Gina DiPasquali were still fussing over their customers as they had for three decades now. Now their daughter Liz and their son Tony were slowly taking over the business, but it was Anthony's boisterous command of a kitchen that turned out consistently mouth-watering pizza and Gina's warmth that drew people back.

Gina had obviously caught a glimpse of Jordan even before they came through the door. She was already rushing out from behind the register as they entered. She threw open her arms to envelop him in a smothering hug that had Kelly grinning and Jordan looking faintly embarrassed.

“How many years has it been since you've come to see me?” Gina demanded after a spate of Italian delivered with a Texas twang. No one knew for certain which language was her first, English or Italian, but she managed to keep up a steady stream in both. “I'll tell you how many. Too many. Come, come. You will sit at our very best table, right beside the kitchen so I can visit with you when it is quiet and Anthony can see you as he goes in and out.”

When Kelly, Dani and Jordan were settled in the booth, Gina beamed at them. “It is like old times, yes? The two of you here together. Now, tell me, what can I get you? Is it still the large pizza with everything and the largest soft drinks in the house?”

“No anchovies,” Kelly reminded her emphatically.

“And I'd like a beer,” Jordan added.

She smiled down at Dani. “And for you, little one? A small soda, perhaps?”

Dani shook her head. “A big one, just like them.”

Kelly grinned at her daughter. “I think a small might be better. You can have more if you want it.”

Dani sighed heavily. “Okay, Mommy.”

Jordan laughed. At a quizzical look from Kelly, he said, “She reminds me so much of you. Sometimes it's spooky. It takes me back so many years.”

Suddenly nostalgic, Kelly asked, “They were good times, weren't they, Jordan?”

He reached across the table and captured her hand in his. “The best.”

Dani studied them intently, moving from Kelly's face to Jordan's and back again. “Tell me,” she insisted. “Tell me about way back then.”

Jordan finally released her hand and leaned back in the booth. “It wasn't that long ago, munchkin,” he informed Dani indignantly. “Your mom and I are hardly old codgers.”

“What's a codger?”

Kelly grinned at Jordan's apparent loss for words. Obviously he wasn't used to a five-year-old's insistence on explanations for everything she didn't understand.
Why
and
how come
were among Dani's favorite words.

“A codger,” she explained, “is a cranky old person.”

Dani nodded sagely. “Okay, you aren't that cranky, I suppose. Except when I forget and leave my markers all over the floor and you slip and fall down.”

“Yes,” Kelly admitted. “I am definitely cranky then.” She leaned close to her daughter's perfect face. “But I am not old!”

“How old are you?”

“You know,” Kelly said, not particularly wanting to be reminded that she would turn thirty in a few months. If she had the same kind of early mid-life crisis Jordan had experienced, who knew what craziness she was likely to indulge in.

Dani looked at Jordan. “You know how old she is. Tell me,” she commanded with all the imperiousness at her disposal.

Jordan waggled a finger to encourage her to come closer. Dani knelt on the seat and leaned across the table.

“She is almost thirty,” he confided in a stage whisper.

“Isn't that old?” Dani asked.

“Very, very old,” he confirmed.

“You'll pay for that,” Kelly warned him. She couldn't really get angry at the lighthearted byplay. Watching the exchange between her daughter and Jordan warmed her heart. If only…She brought herself up short. That way lay heartache.

Jordan looked intrigued by her mild threat. “Oh?”

“When you least expect it,” she added.

“Something to look forward to,” he noted, clearly not the least bit worried.

A slow, lopsided grin crept across his face. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes that made Kelly's stomach flip over. Obviously she'd chosen to taunt a master and he'd managed to turn the tables on her with no more than a dangerous look.

The moment might have lasted far longer, if Dani hadn't grown impatient at being ignored. She tugged on Jordan's sleeve. “What was the baddest thing Mommy ever did?”

His eyes were still sparkling. This time, though, it was clearly at some memory Kelly had the feeling she didn't want him sharing with her precocious daughter. Thankfully, Anthony came out of the kitchen just then with their pizza. Kelly prayed that the distraction would get Dani's mind off the past.

It worked, too, for another five minutes. Long enough for Dani to take her first bite of pizza and her first sip of soft drink. Long enough for Anthony and
Jordan to spend time catching up, before Anthony retreated to the kitchen. Long enough for Kelly's nerves to get entirely rattled in anticipation of which memories were crowding into Jordan's head and which he might choose to share.