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Expecting the CEO's Child
Yvonne Lindsay


No woman says no to a LassiterMonths after their passionate tryst, Dylan Lassiter can't get Jenna Montgomery out of his mind. Maybe being named CEO of his adoptive father's restaurant empire is making the onetime playboy think about settling down. Or maybe it's because Dylan just found out Jenna's having his baby….When the petite florist flat-out refuses to marry him, the celebrity chef kicks his seduce/woo/wed scheme into high gear. But just as he's gaining ground, the media unearths a shocking secret from the mother-to-be's past. Now Dylan could lose the woman–and family–he wants more than anything….









“We get married and raise the baby together.”


To his chagrin, Jenna laughed. Not just laughed but snorted and snuffled with it, as if she couldn’t contain her mirth at all.

“It’s not so impossible to think of, is it?” he demanded.

“Impossible? It’s ridiculous, Dylan. We barely even know one another.”

He nodded in agreement. “True. That’s something easily rectified.”

All humor fled from her face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Never more so.”

“No. It would never work. Not in a million years.”

“Why not? We already know we’re—” he paused a moment for effect, his eyes skimming her face, her throat and lower “—compatible.”

“Great sex isn’t the sole basis for a compatible marriage,” she protested.

“It’s a start,” he said, his voice deepening.

* * *

Expecting the CEO’s Child

is a Dynasties: The Lassiters novel—A Wyoming

legacy of love, lies and redemption!




Expecting the CEO’s Child

Yvonne Lindsay





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


New Zealand born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her “blind date” and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life. She can be contacted via her website, www.yvonnelindsay.com (http://www.yvonnelindsay.com).


To my dear friend Rose-Marie, who has known me since we were both teenagers—thank you for always being my friend and an especial thank you for calling florists in Wyoming for me! :) I owe you, Smithy!


Contents

Chapter One (#u3690f091-88d6-5702-86b7-4d5a96349ecb)

Chapter Two (#uc6a5a565-660c-5b74-887b-76c5719d6757)

Chapter Three (#uf0dabb89-38b0-505d-9d01-0e1f79d40927)

Chapter Four (#ud3fd6cb1-b15a-5b71-9ba8-64fd90efa86c)

Chapter Five (#u6c4e857c-ccdc-5c4b-9b32-18e90b07aac8)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


One

Jenna puzzled over the complex wreath design a family had requested for their grandmother’s funeral the coming Wednesday. She just about had it nailed; all she needed to confirm with the wholesale suppliers was that she’d be able to get the right shade of lilacs that had been the grandmother’s favorite.

The sound of the door buzzer alerted her to a customer out front. She listened to see if her new Saturday part-time assistant would attend to the client, but the subsequent ding of the counter bell told her that Millie was likely in the cool room out back, or, unfortunately more likely, outside on the phone to her boyfriend again.

Making a mental note to discuss with the girl the importance of actually working during work hours, Jenna pushed herself up from her desk, pasted a smile on her face and walked out into the showroom. Only to feel the smile freeze in place as she recognized Dylan Lassiter, in all his decadent glory, standing with his back to her, his attention apparently captured by the ready-made bouquets she kept in the refrigerated unit along one wall.

Her reaction was instantaneous; heat, desire and shock flooded her in turn. The last time she’d seen him had been in the coat closet where they’d impulsively sought refuge—to release the sexual energy that had ignited so dangerously and suddenly between them. They’d struck sparks off one another so bright and so fierce it had almost been a relief when he’d returned to his base in Los Angeles. Almost.

Jenna fought the urge to place a hand protectively across her belly—to hide the evidence of that uncharacteristic and spontaneous act. She’d known from the day her pregnancy was confirmed that she’d have to tell him at some stage. She hadn’t planned for it to be right now. At first she’d been a little piqued that he’d made no effort to contact her since that one incredible encounter. She had half understood he’d been too busy to call her in the aftermath of his father’s sudden death during Dylan’s sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner. But afterward? When everything had begun to settle down again?

She gave herself a mental shake. No, she’d successfully convinced herself that she didn’t need or want the complication of a relationship. Especially not now and especially not with someone as high profile as Dylan Lassiter. Not after all the years of work she’d put into rebuilding her reputation. She’d made a conscious choice to put off contacting him, too, and despite the slight wound to her feminine ego that he’d obviously done the same, she would just have to get over it because she sure as heck had plenty else to keep her mind occupied now.

“Can I help you?” she said, feigning a lack of recognition right up until the moment he turned around and impaled her with those cerulean-blue eyes of his.

Air fled from her lungs and her throat closed up. A perfectly tailored blue-gray suit emphasized the width of his shoulders, while his white shirt and pale blue tie emphasized the California tan that warmed his skin. Her mouth dried. It was a crime against nature that any man could look so beautiful and so masculine at the same time.

A hank of softly curling hair fell across his high forehead, making her hand itch to smooth it back, then trace the stubbled line of his jaw. She clenched her fingers into a tight fist, embedding her nails in her palms as she reminded herself exactly where such an action would inevitably lead.

He was like a drug to her. An instant high that, once taken, created a craving like no other. She’d spent the past two and a half months in a state of disbelief at her actions. She, who’d strived to be so careful—to keep her nose clean and to fly under the radar—was now carrying the child of a man she’d met the day it was conceived. A man she’d barely known, yet knew so much about. Certainly enough not to have succumbed the way she had.

It had literally been a one-night stand, she reminded herself cynically. The coat closet hadn’t allowed for anything else. But as close as the confines had been, her body still remembered every second of how he’d made her feel—and it reacted in kind again.

“Jenna,” Dylan said with a slow nod of his head, his gaze not moving from her face for so much as a second.

“Dylan,” she replied, taking a deep breath and feigning surprise. “What brings you back to Cheyenne?”

The instant she said the words she silently groaned. The opening. Of course he was here for that. The local chamber of commerce—heck, the whole town—was abuzz with the news. She’d tried to ignore anything Lassiter-related for weeks now, but there was no ignoring the man in front of her.

The father of her unborn child.

A noise from the back of the store made both of them turn around. Oh, thank God. Millie had finally deigned to show up and do her job.

“Ah,” Jenna said, fighting to hide her relief. “Here’s Millie. She’ll be able to assist you with any requirements you might have. Millie, this is Mr. Lassiter, he’s opening the Lassiter Grill in town. Please make sure you give him our best service.”

She sent Dylan a distracted smile and turned to go, only to feel him snag her wrist with warm strong fingers. Fingers that had done unmentionably wicked things to her and whose touch now sent a spiral of need to clench deep inside her.

“Not so fast,” Dylan said, spinning her gently back to face him again. “As capable as I’m sure Millie is,” he continued, flashing a smile that had the impressionable teen virtually melting on the spot, “I’d prefer to deal with you directly.”

“I’m sure you would,” Jenna answered as quellingly as she could. “But Millie is available to help you with your inquiry. I am not.”

Her heart rate skipped up a beat as a hint of annoyance dulled his eyes.

“Scared, Jenna?”

His low tones were laced with challenge. Jenna stiffened her spine.

“Not at all, just very busy.”

“Not too busy, I’m sure, to catch up with an old friend.”

Hot color stained her cheeks. They weren’t anything near approaching friends. She barely knew him any better now than she had the day they’d met—the day they were so drawn to one another that flirtation had turned to touching, and touching had turned to impassioned, frenzied lovemaking in the nearest available private space.

A butterfly whisper of movement rippled across her lower belly, shocking her into gasping aloud. Of course—the moment she’d been awaiting for weeks, her baby’s first perceptible motion, would have to happen with its father standing right here in front of her.

Dylan’s fingers tightened on her wrist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “Just very busy.”

“Then I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” He gave her a searching look. “Your office?”

Her body wilted in defeat. “Through here.”

He released her wrist and she felt the cool air of the showroom swirl around her sensitized skin, as if her body instantly mourned the loss of contact, his touch. She found herself rubbing at the spot where he’d held her, as if she could somehow rub away the invisible imprint he’d left upon her.

Stop being ridiculous, she growled silently. He was nothing to you before, aside from an out of character dalliance, and he’s nothing to you now. Logically she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. Despite the fact he was based in L.A., with the new restaurant opening here in town they were bound to cross paths again sometime. It might as well be now.

The tiny fluttering sensation rippled through her belly again, reminding her that there was a great deal more to consider than just her own feelings about seeing Dylan Lassiter. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed that her petite frame carried a new softness about it now. That her figure, rather than being taut and flat, was gently rounded as the baby’s presence had suddenly become more visible at thirteen weeks.

She hadn’t shared news of her pregnancy with anyone yet, and had no plans to start right now. Instead, she’d sought to hide it by changing from her usual style of figure-hugging attire to longer, more flowing lines.

As they entered the tiny office she used for administration, she gestured to the chair opposite her desk and sank, gratefully, into her own on the other side. Instead of taking the seat offered to him, Dylan sat on the edge of her desk. She couldn’t help but notice the way the fine wool of his trousers skimmed his long powerful thighs, or how the fabric now stretched across his groin.

Her mouth suddenly felt parched and she turned to reach for the water jug and glasses that she kept on a credenza behind her desk.

“Water?” she offered with a croak.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

She hastily splashed a measure of clear liquid into a glass for herself and lifted it to her lips, relishing the cooling and hydrating sensation as the drink slid over her tongue. After putting the glass down on the desk, she pulled a pad toward her and picked up a pen.

“So,” she said, looking up at him. “What is it you want?”

He reached out and took the pen from her hand, laying it very deliberately down on the notepad. “I thought we could talk. You know, reminisce about old times.”

Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs and she pushed her chair back from her desk. Anything to increase the distance between them.

“Look, you said a few minutes, and frankly, that’s all I had. Your time’s up. If there’s nothing business related you need to discuss...?” She hesitated a moment, her temper snapping now at the humor reflected in his eyes. “Then you’ll have to excuse me so I can attend to my work.”

Dylan’s sinfully sensuous lips curved into a half smile. “You’re different, Jenna. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ll figure it out.”

She fought back a groan. The man was all about detail. She knew that intimately. If she didn’t get him out of here soon he was bound to notice exactly what it was that was different about her. She wasn’t ready for that, not right now, anyway. She needed more time.

Before she could respond, he continued, “I want you to do the flowers for the opening. Wildflowers, grasses, rustic—that kind of thing. Can you do it?”

“I’ll get my staff on to preparing some samples for you on Monday. I take it you’ll be around?”

His smile widened. “Oh, yes, I’ll be around. And your staff won’t be handling this for me. You will.”

“My staff are well trained and efficient—”

“But they’re not you—and I want you.”

His words hung in the air between them. She could feel them as if he’d actually reached out and touched her.

“You can’t have me,” she whispered.

“Can’t I? Hmm, that’s a darn shame,” he said. “Because then I’d have to take my business elsewhere.”

His words, so gently spoken, sent a spear of ice straight through her. It would take only a day for the news that she’d turned his business away to get through town. Less than that again before more people would follow his cue and take their business to other florists, as well. She’d fought long and hard to get a reputation as the leading florist in town and she wasn’t going to lose it just like that.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she swiftly considered her options. Well, option. She really had no other choice but to take his business. Refusing it, with the associated fallout when word got around that she’d turned down a Lassiter—well, it didn’t bear thinking about. However, the benefits would roll in pretty quickly when it was known that she’d done the flowers for the opening. There was nothing some of the better-heeled members of Cheyenne society loved more than following a trend set by the Lassiter family.

“I may be able to carve out a little time,” she hedged, not wanting him to see how easily he’d forced her to capitulate. “Do you have particular designs in mind?”

“Tell you what. Why don’t we discuss this further over dinner tonight.”

“I’m sorry, I have plans for tonight.” Plans that included a long soak with her feet in a tub filled with warm water and Epsom salts, followed by a home pedicure while she could still bend down and reach her toes. “Perhaps you could give me your contact number for while you’re here. I’ll call you when I’m free.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed glance, then lazily got to his feet, reached into his back pocket for his wallet and slid out a card. She went to take it, but he didn’t immediately let it go. Instead, he tugged it closer to his body, thereby tugging her a little closer, too.

“You’ll call me?”

“Of course. We’re closed tomorrow, but I’ll check my schedule on Monday and call you then.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said with a lazy wink and released the card.

She followed him from the office into the showroom. Even though she’d worked here since she was a teenager, she was still attuned to the sweet, luscious fragrance of the blooms she had on display. The various layers of scent filled the air with a strong feminine presence. A complete contrast to the powerful masculinity that was Dylan Lassiter.

Jenna held the front door to the store open for him.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she said as he stepped past her and onto the sidewalk.

Just as he did, a large delivery truck passed on the street. The subsequent whoosh of warm air hit her full on, the gust plastering her short-sleeved tunic against her body. Dylan didn’t miss a trick. His eyes drifted over the new fullness of her breasts, then lower, to where her waist had thickened, and to the gentle roundness of her tummy. He stared at her for what felt like an aeon before his eyes flicked upward to her face.

What she saw reflected back at her had the ability to nail her feet to the ground, right where she stood. She’d read about his convivial side, his laissez-faire attitude to life and his ability to continually land on his feet even as he eschewed traditional choices. Conversely, it was widely known that he was a perfectionist in the kitchen, which took a keen mind and grim determination.

The expression that he presented to her belonged to a different man entirely. This was the face of the CEO of the Lassiter Grill Corporation, not the playboy, not the one-time lover. No, this was the face of a man who had a question and, she thought with a shiver, would do whatever it took to get his answer.

“Looks like we have a bit more than just flowers to discuss. I think we’d best be having that dinner mighty soon, don’t you?”

He turned on the heel of his hand-tooled boot and strode toward a dark SUV parked a few spaces down the street. She couldn’t help but watch the lithe way his body moved. Jenna closed her eyes for a second but still his image burned there as if imprinted on her retinas. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her time for keeping this baby a secret had well and truly passed.


Two

Dylan swung his SUV into the traffic and fought to control the anger that roiled inside him like a building head of thunderclouds.

She was pregnant. No wonder she’d been as skittish as one of Sage’s newborn foals when he’d arrived. He was probably the last person on earth she either expected, or wanted, to see.

His baby? The timing would be about right—unless she was the type of woman who indulged in casual assignations with just about any man she met. The thought made his stomach pitch uneasily. He needed to know for sure if their encounter had resulted in pregnancy. God, pregnancy. A kid of his own. And with her.

It wasn’t hard to recall how his eye had been drawn to her that cool March Friday. He’d wanted her, right there, right then.

He remembered his first sight of her as she flitted about like some exotic bird, her attention solely on the flower arrangements she’d designed for his sister, Angelica’s, wedding rehearsal dinner—a dinner that had ended before it began when his adoptive father, J.D., had collapsed with a fatal heart attack—for a wedding that had been called off, permanently now it seemed.

The building had been full of people doing what they did best, but Jenna stood out among them all in her jewel bright colors. An effervescent energy simply vibrated off her. Their initial banter had been fun and she’d given as good as she got. But the real craziness had started the moment he caught her hand in his and pulled her into an alcove where he kissed her, so he could see for himself if she tasted as intoxicating as he’d imagined.

She’d spun out of his arms the instant he’d loosened his hold on her but the imprint of her slight frame against his body had stayed with him through the course of the next hour, until he’d known that one kiss was definitely not enough. Satisfied the catering team in the kitchen knew what they were doing, he’d hunted Jenna down as she’d applied the finishing touches to the floral design she’d created for the entrance to the Cheyenne Depot—a historic railroad station that had been converted into a popular reception hall. Hunted her down and entrapped her in his arms for what he’d planned to be just one more kiss.

One more kiss had turned into a frenzy of need and they’d found their way into the coat closet at the front of the building. In its dark recesses, they’d discovered just what level of delight they could bring each other to.

He’d never been the kind of guy who waited for anything to come to him. No, he always went out and got it. And he’d certainly gone out and gotten her—both of them swept along on a tide of attraction that still left him breathless whenever he thought about it. He’d had casual encounters before, but this had been so very different. But then his father had died and his world had changed.

By the time the formalities here in Cheyenne had been taken care of, he’d had to race back to L.A. to continue his duties as CEO of the Lassiter Grill Corporation. Hassling Angelica for the contact details of the florist she’d used for that night—a night from which repercussions continued to cause his sister pain—had seemed a cruel and unnecessary thing to do. Besides, he’d had enough on his plate with work. Now, it seemed, he had a great deal more.

His inattention to the road forced him to jam on his brakes when the traffic ahead slowed suddenly. He swore softly. Two hours. He’d give her two hours to call him about dinner—max. If she hadn’t phoned by then, he’d sure as heck be calling her.

In the end it was fifty-eight minutes exactly before his cell phone began vibrating in his pocket. He took it out, a smile curving his lips as he saw the name of her store come up on the screen.

“I was thinking we could make it tonight,” he said without preamble. “My place, seven o’clock.”

“Y-your place?”

He rattled off the address. “You know where it is?”

“Sure. I’ll find it,” she answered, her voice a little breathless.

“Maybe I ought to pick you up. Don’t want you changing your mind at the last minute.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll see you at seven.”

She hung up before he could say another thing. His mouth firmed into a grim line as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It was a rare thing indeed to find a woman of so few words. Even when they’d first met they’d been bigger on action than conversation.

That was certainly going to change. He had a list of questions as long as his arm and he wasn’t letting her go until she’d answered every last one.

One thing was certain. If she was carrying his child, he was going to be a part of that baby’s life. Losing his own parents when he was young, then being raised by his aunt Ellie and her husband, J. D. Lassiter, Dylan knew just how important family was. He’d been too young to remember his mom and dad properly, too young to mourn more than the sense of security he’d taken for granted from birth. After his parents died, however, that all changed, until Aunt Ellie and J.D. stepped in and ensured that he, his brother, Sage, and sister, Angelica, never wanted for a thing. Even after Ellie Lassiter passed away, her sister-in-law, Marlene, had become a surrogate mom to them. It had been family that had gotten them through.

Now, with J.D. gone, too, the whole concept of family was even more important to him than ever. His brother thought he was nuts putting so much store by it. At constant loggerheads with J.D. and determined to make his own place in the world, Sage had always insisted that the only family he needed was Dylan. As close as they were, Dylan had always wanted more. And, if Jenna Montgomery’s baby was his, it looked like he might be getting it.

* * *

Jenna reluctantly got ready to go out to Dylan’s place. He was a complication she would rather ignore right now, but clearly, he wasn’t about to let that happen. She quickly showered, then took her time rubbing scented moisturizer into her skin. So what if she had just shaved her legs—they needed it. She certainly hadn’t done it for his benefit.

Nor had she applied the makeup she barely ever wore anymore for him, either. She was doing this all for herself. Pure and simple. If it made her feel good, feel stronger, then she was doing it. The same principle applied to the clothes she’d chosen to wear tonight. The royal purple stretch lace dress flattered her figure, even with the additional curves that now showed. It empowered her, as did the black spike-heeled pumps she teetered on.

She paused for a moment to assess herself in the mirror. Too much? Her eyes scanned from her dark brown hair, worn loose and flat-ironed dead straight, to her shiny patent leather shoes. She swiveled sideways. This was a total contrast to the kind of thing she’d worn in recent weeks. And, yes, it was definitely too much—which was why she wasn’t going to change a thing.

She grabbed her purse from the bed and told herself she was not nervous about this meeting. That’s all it was. A meeting. She’d tell Dylan what she’d been planning to tell him all along, and that would be that.

She wouldn’t be swayed by the depth of his blue eyes, or the careless fall of his hair, which always looked as if he’d just tumbled from bed. She knew he was handsome; she’d fallen prey to that so easily. She also knew he was successful and intelligent and had a charm that could melt a polar ice cap. But she’d be immune to all that now, too. At least she hoped she would be.

She’d had weeks to think about this. Weeks in which to decide that while Dylan should know about his baby, she was most definitely bringing it up on her own. She knew full well what not to do when raising a child. Her own parents had been the prime example of that. No, her baby would want for nothing. He or she would grow up secure in the knowledge of Jenna’s love and protection.

A man like Dylan Lassiter, with his cavalier lifestyle, a girl for every day of the week, every week of the year, not to mention his celebrity status, which ensured he traveled constantly, did not fit into the picture at all. She’d taken a walk on that wild side of his and yes, she had enjoyed every precious second. But life, real life, had to be lived in a far more stable and measured way. She owned her own home and had a business that was doing well.... With a few economies she could and would do this all on her own.

With those thoughts to arm her, she locked up and walked out to her car. Checking the map one more time, she headed north to the address he’d given her, on the outskirts of town.

Doubts began to assail Jenna as she pulled in between the massive gated pillars, each adorned with a wrought-iron, stylized L, at the entrance to the driveway. The drive itself had to be several football fields long. She knew the family was wealthy, but seriously, who did this? Who kept a property this immense when they spent only about two months of every year living here? The Lassiters, that’s who. It was a stark and somewhat intimidating reminder of the differences between herself and Dylan, and it struck a nervous chime deep inside her.

What if he used his money and his position to make things difficult for her? She had no idea what he was really like, although she remembered, without the slightest hesitation, how he’d felt and how he’d tasted. He was forbidden fruit. The kind of man every woman, no matter her age, turned her head to watch go past. The kind of man every woman deserved to savor—as Jenna had—at least once in her lifetime. But he wasn’t a forever kind of guy. She’d been thankful he hadn’t contacted her after their...their...tryst, she reminded herself again. She definitely wasn’t looking for the roller coaster ride or the intrusive media publicity a relationship with him would offer.

Almost everything she knew about Dylan Lassiter she’d gleaned from social media and word of mouth around town—of which there was plenty. He’d basically gone wherever whim had taken him, spurning the opportunities and advantages afforded him by his adoptive father, and refusing to go into the family business or even attend college. Jenna sighed. What would it have been like, she wondered, to be able to be so carefree? She knew he’d traveled widely, eventually training in Europe as a chef and then coming back to L.A. and building a solid name for his skills, together with a certain celebrity notoriety at the same time. His life, to her, just seemed so...indulgent.

Her upbringing had been as different from Dylan’s as a bridal bouquet was from a sizzling steak platter. And from her perspective, while there was plenty about Dylan Lassiter to recommend him to anyone who liked to run fast and loose, there was very little to recommend him as father material.

That said, this baby was their creation. Dylan had rights—and she had no plans to stand in the way of those. But she also wanted her child to grow up secure, in one place, with a stable and loving parent. Not used in a tug-of-war between parents, as she had been. Not dragged from pillar to post as her father moved from country to country, then state to state in pursuit of some unattainable happily-ever-after. And certainly not implicated by her father’s fraudulent schemes or left abandoned at the age of fifteen because her sole surviving parent was doing time in jail.

No, Jenna’s baby was going to have everything she hadn’t.

She gently applied the brake and her car came to a stop outside the impressive portico. She rested a hand on the slight mound of her belly, determined not to be totally overwhelmed by the obvious wealth on display before her. This baby had rights, too, and yes, he or she was entitled to be a part of what stood before Jenna. But right now she was the baby’s only advocate, and she knew what was best for him or her. And she’d fight to her very last breath to ensure her child got exactly that.

She grabbed her bag and got out of the car. The front door opened as she walked toward it, and Dylan stood on the threshold. Jenna’s heart did that little double skip, just as it had the very first time she saw him. It was hard to remain objective when the man stood before her. He’d tamed his hair slightly, giving him a more refined look, and he’d changed his suit for a pale blue cotton shirt that made his eyes seem even bluer than before.

“You found the place okay?” he asked unnecessarily as she ascended the wide steps.

“Hard to miss it, don’t you think?” she replied, not even bothering to keep the note of acerbity from her tone.

She didn’t want him to think even for a minute that he had the upper hand in this meeting. He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging she’d scored a valid point.

“Come on in,” he invited, opening the door wide. “You must be ready to put your feet up after working all day. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just mineral water, if you have it, thanks.”

She hadn’t drunk alcohol since she’d known she might be pregnant. In fact, there were a lot of things she didn’t eat or drink as a result of the changes happening deep inside her body.

“Sure, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the large and comfortable-looking furniture that dominated the living room off the main entrance. “I’ll be right back.”

He was as good as his word. She’d barely settled herself against the butter-soft leather of a sofa big enough to sleep on before he was back with two drinks. An ice-cold beer for himself and a tall glass of sparkling water for her.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, taking the glass from his hand and studiously avoiding making eye contact.

But she couldn’t avoid the slight brush of fingers, nor could she ignore the zing of awareness that speared through her at that faint touch. She rapidly lifted the glass to her lips to mask her reaction. The bubbles leaping from the water’s surface tickled her nose, further irritating her. She swallowed carefully and put the glass on the coaster on the table in front of her.

Dylan sprawled in the seat opposite, his large, rangy frame filling the chair. His gaze never left her face and an increasingly uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Jenna cleared her throat nervously. Obviously, she was going to have to start this conversation.

“I—I wanted to say how sorry I was about your father’s passing.”

“Thank you.”

“He was much respected and I’m sure you must miss him very much,” she persisted.

“I do,” Dylan acknowledged, then took a long draw of his beer.

Damn him, he wasn’t making this easy for her. But then again, what had she expected?

“He’d have been proud of the new restaurant opening here in town,” she continued valiantly.

“That he would.”

“And you? You must be pleased with everything being on time.”

“I am.”

A muscle tugged at the edge of his mouth, pulling his lips into a half smile that was as cynical as it was appealing. Jenna suddenly had the overwhelming sense that she shouldn’t have come here. That perhaps she should have waited a day or two before calling him. Hard on its heels came the contradictory but certain knowledge that she definitely should have been in touch with him long before now.

Was this how a mouse felt, she wondered, just before a cat pounced? Did it feel helpless, confused and frightened, with nowhere to look but straight into a maw of dread?

She watched, mesmerized, as Dylan leaned forward and carefully put his beer on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees, those sinfully dexterous hands of his loosely clasped between them. Warmth unfurled from her core like a slowly opening bud, and she forced her eyes to lift upward, to meet the challenge in his.

She fought to suppress a shudder when she saw the determination that reflected back at her. She reached for her water and took another sip, shocked to discover that her hand shook ever so slightly. She dug deep for the last ounce of courage she possessed. Since he was determined to make this so awkward, she’d find some inane way to carry the conversation even if it killed her.

“Thank you for asking me to dinner tonight. It’s not every day I’m catered to by a European-trained celebrity chef.”

She was surprised to hear Dylan sigh, as if he was disappointed in something. In her?

“Jenna, stop dancing around the issue and cut to the chase. Are you pregnant with my baby?”


Three

Dylan cursed inwardly. He’d been determined to be charming. He could do charming with his eyes closed and both hands behind his back. So why, then, had he so ham-fistedly screwed up what he’d planned to be a relaxing evening of fact-finding with a woman he’d been fiercely attracted to from the second he’d first laid eyes on her?

It was too late now. The words were out and he couldn’t drag them back no matter how much he wanted to. He huffed out a breath of frustration. Jenna looked about as stunned by his question as he was at actually blurting it out that way. Damage control. He desperately needed to go into damage control mode, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of the words to say. What he wanted was the answer. An answer that only Jenna Montgomery could provide.

Beneath his gaze she appeared to shrink a little into the voluminous furniture. She was already a dainty thing—her small body perfectly formed—but right now she was dwarfed by her surroundings and, no doubt, daunted by the conversation they were about to have.

Dylan knew he should try and put her at ease, but the second she’d alighted from her car he had felt the shields she’d erected between them. It had aroused a side of him he hadn’t displayed in years, made him deliberately uncooperative as she’d tried to observe the niceties of polite conversation. It had driven him to ask the question that had been plaguing him since that gust of wind off the road had revealed changes in her slender form that were too obvious to someone who knew that form as intimately, even if fleetingly, as he had.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Yes,” she said in a strangled whisper.

Dylan didn’t know what to say. Inside he felt as if he’d just scored a touchdown at the Super Bowl, but he also had this weird feeling of detachment, as if he was looking in on some other guy’s life. As if what she’d just said wasn’t real—didn’t involve him. But he was involved, very much so. Or at least he would be, whether she liked it or not.

“Were you going to tell me sometime, or did you just hope that I’d never know?”

As much as he fought to keep the hard note of anger from his voice, he could feel it lacing every word. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and he struggled to pull himself under control. He didn’t want to antagonize her or scare her away, and it wasn’t as if he’d made an effort to get in touch with her again before today. This was way too important, and at the crux of it all an innocent child’s future depended on the outcome of tonight.

“I meant to tell you, and I was going to—in my own time. I’ve been busy and I had a bit of a struggle coming to terms with it myself. Getting my head around how I’m going to cope.”

Jenna’s voice shook, but even though she was upset, he sensed the shields she’d erected earlier growing even thicker, her defense even stronger.

“And you didn’t think I should have known about this earlier?”

“What difference would it have made?”

Her words shocked him. What difference? Did she think that knowing he was going to be a father made no discernible difference to his life, to how he felt about everything? Hell, he’d lost his own father only a couple months ago. Didn’t she think he at least deserved a light in the darkness of mourning? Something to get him through the responsibility of having to get up every day and keep putting one foot in front of the other, all because so many other people depended on him to not only do exactly that, but to do it brilliantly—even when he wanted to wallow in grief?

“Trust me.” He fought to keep his tone even. “It would have made a difference. When did you know?”

“About three weeks after we—” Her voice broke off and she appeared to gather up her courage before she spoke again. “I began to suspect I might be pregnant, and waited another week before going to my doctor.”

Dylan sucked in a breath between his teeth. So, by his reckoning, she’d had confirmation that their encounter had resulted in conception for plenty of time. She could have shared the news—no matter how busy she was.

Damn it, he’d used a condom; they should have been safe. But nothing was 100 percent effective, except maybe abstinence. And there was one thing that was guaranteed, when it came to Jenna: abstinence was the last thing on Dylan’s mind.

Even now, as quietly irate as he was right this second, she still had a power over him. His skin felt too tight for his body, as if he was itching to burst out and lose himself in her. His flesh stirred to life even as the idea took flight. Desire uncoiled from the pit of his belly and sent snaking tendrils in a heated path throughout him.

No one had had that power over him before. Ever. Yet this diminutive woman had once driven him to a sexual frenzy that had tipped over into sheer madness. She still could.

A ringing sound penetrated Dylan’s consciousness, a much needed reminder of the here and now and the fact that Jenna sat opposite him, quite a different woman from the one he’d so quickly but thoroughly made love to two and a half months ago.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, surreptitiously adjusting himself as he rose from the seat. “I need to check on something in the kitchen.”

After a quick examination of the beef bourguignonne simmering on the stovetop, and checking that the rice in the cooker was fluffy and ready, he grunted with satisfaction. They would continue this discussion at the table, where, hopefully, he’d find his manners again and stand a better chance of hiding the effect she had on him.

He returned to the living room and painted a smile on his face.

“Dinner’s ready. Would you like to come through to the kitchen? I thought we could eat in there, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Since I usually eat standing up at the store or off a tray on my lap when I’m home, just sitting at a table sounds lovely.”

She stood and smoothed her clothes, her hand lingering on the tiny bump that revealed a child of his now existed. It hit Dylan like a fist to the chest. His child. Someone of his blood. Everything else in his life right now faded into the background as that knowledge took precedence. Now there was another generation to think about, to protect and to teach.

The thought filled him with a new sense of purpose, of hope. The past five years had been challenging, the past couple of months even more so. But this baby was a new beginning. A reason for Dylan to ground himself in what was good, and to put some much needed balance back in his life, balance that was sadly lacking. This baby, his son or daughter, was a lifeline out of a spiral of work and hard play that had threatened to consume him. One way or another he would be a part of his child’s world—every single day if he could, although that would take some engineering with him based in L.A. and Jenna here in Cheyenne. Whatever the logistics, he was prepared to work this situation out. He just needed to be certain that Jenna felt the same way.

She crossed the room to where he stood, and he put his hand at the small of her back and guided her through to the kitchen. He felt her stiffen slightly beneath his touch, and heard her breath hitch just a little. Knowing she wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended went a long way toward making him feel better about the semi-erection he was constantly battling to keep in control.

He seated her at the square wooden table in the kitchen and gestured to the vase containing a handful of wildflowers he’d found on his four-acre property when he’d gone to walk off some steam this afternoon.

“They could probably have done with your touch,” he said as he turned to the oven to take warmed plates out and lay them on the table.

“They look fine just the way they are,” Jenna commented.

But as if she couldn’t resist, he saw her reach out and tweak a few stems. Before he knew it, the bouquet looked a hundred times better.

“How do you do that?” he asked, bringing the Dutch oven filled with the deliciously fragrant beef across from the stove.

“Do what?”

“Make a jumble of weeds look so good.”

She shrugged. “It’s a knack I picked up, I guess.”

“What made you decide to work with flowers?”

“I didn’t, really.” She sighed. “They kind of picked me.”

“Not a family business, then?” he probed, curious to discover just how she had ended up under Mrs. Connell’s roof.

Jenna gave a rueful laugh. “No, not a family business at all, although once I started working at the store it felt like home to me.”

There was a wistful note in her voice, one he wanted to explore further, but found himself reluctant to. There was time enough to find out all her secrets, he told himself.

He spooned rice from the cooker onto the warmed plates, and put them on the table.

“This looks great,” Jenna commented, leaning forward to inhale deeply. “And smells even better. To be honest, I think your skills with food far outweigh mine with flowers. I can barely reheat a TV dinner without burning something.”

Dylan feigned horror. “Wash your mouth out. TV dinners? You’re going to have to do much better than that for the baby.”

He reached for a ladle and spooned a generous portion of the beef onto her plate before serving himself. When she didn’t immediately pick up her fork, he sat back and looked at her. Her lips had firmed into a mutinous line and there was a frown of annoyance on her forehead.

“What did I say?”

“I didn’t come here to be told what to do. Maybe it’s better if I go.”

She pushed back her chair a little, but before she could go any farther he reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Okay, truce. I will try not to tell you what to eat, but you have to admit, for me it comes with the territory. It’s what I do. It’s in my nature to want to feed people well.”

It was also in his nature to want to lift her from her chair, march her to the nearest accommodatingly soft surface and relive some of the passion they’d shared. She looked down at where his fingers were curled around her wrist, and he slowly eased his grip and let her go.

“As long as we’re clear on that,” she muttered, scooting her chair closer to the table again and lifting her fork.

She scooped up a mouthful and brought it to her lips. His brain ceased to function as she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure. Other body parts had no such difficulty.

“That’s so good,” she said, opening her eyes again.

For a second Dylan allowed himself to be lost in their chocolate-brown depths. Just a second. Then he forced himself to look away and apply himself to his own meal.

“Thanks, I aim to please,” he said with a nonchalance he was far from feeling.

It didn’t seem to matter what he did or what he said, or even how she reacted to any of it—he was drawn to her on a level he’d never experienced before. Sure, that could play to his advantage, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Jenna Montgomery was a great deal more hardheaded than her feminine presence at his table suggested.

“Home grown?” she asked, spearing some beef and popping it into her mouth.

For a second he was distracted by her lips closing around the fork, then the enticing half smile they curved into as she tasted and chewed.

“Yeah, from the Big Blue. Nothing but the best.”

“Your cousin runs it, doesn’t he? Chance Lassiter?”

“And very well, too. It’s in his blood.”

And therein lay the rub. While he and Sage had been raised Lassiters, they weren’t Lassiter by birth. Not like Chance, not like their sister, Angelica. It was one of the reasons why this baby meant so much more to Dylan than he had ever imagined. This child was a part of his legacy, his mark on the world. It was all very well gaining fame and fortune for doing something you excelled at and loved, but raising a child and setting him or her on a path for life—nothing compared to that.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when the baby is born?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Do?”

“About work.”

“I’ll manage. I figure that in the early stages I should be able to keep the baby at work with me.”

He nodded, turning the idea over in his mind. “Yes, sure—initially. I think that would be a good idea.”

“I’m sorry?”

He looked at her in puzzlement. But his confusion didn’t last long.

“What you think should matter to me, why, exactly?”

He let his fork clatter onto his plate. “Well, it is my baby, too. I have some say in what happens to him or her.”

Even though he’d tried to keep his voice neutral, some of his frustration must have leaked through.

“Dylan, as far as I’m concerned, while you have rights to be a part of this baby’s life, it doesn’t mean you have a say in how I bring it up.”

“Oh? And how do you see that working? Just let me jet in every now and then, have a visit and then jet out again?”

“Pretty much. After all, you live most of the time in L.A., or wherever else in the world you’re flying off to—not here where the baby and I will be. Obviously, I won’t stand in your way when you want to see him or her, though, as long as it’s clear I’m the one raising the child.”

That was not how things were going to happen. Dylan’s hands curled into fists on the table and took in a deep, steadying breath. “That’s good of you,” he said, as evenly as he could. “Although I have another suggestion, one that I find far more palatable, and which will be better for all of us.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Oh? What’s that?”

“That we get married and raise the baby together.”

To his chagrin she laughed. Not just laughed but snorted and snuffled with it as if she couldn’t contain her mirth.

“It’s not so impossible to think of, is it?” he demanded.

“Impossible? It’s ridiculous, Dylan. We barely know one another.”

He nodded in agreement. “True. That’s something easily rectified.”

All humor fled from her face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Never more so.”

“No. It would never work. Not in a million years.”

“Why not? We already know we’re...” he paused a moment for effect, his eyes skimming her face, her throat and lower “...compatible.”

“Great sex isn’t the sole basis for a compatible marriage,” she protested.

“It’s a start,” he said, his voice deepening.

Hot color danced in her cheeks—due to anger or something else? he wondered. Something like desire, perhaps?

“Not for me it isn’t. Look, can we agree to disagree on the subject of marriage? I’ve already said I won’t stand in your way when it comes to seeing the child. Can we leave it at that for now?”

“Sure, for now. But, Jenna, one thing you will learn about me is that I never give up. Especially not on something this important.”


Four

Jenna’s heart hammered a steady drumbeat in her chest. He looked deadly serious. This wasn’t how she had imagined their meal together going, not at all. She certainly hadn’t imagined that he’d spring an offer of marriage on her like that.

Sure, there was probably a list as long as her arm of women who would jump at the opportunity. But she wasn’t like that. And she’d meant it when she’d said his life was in L.A. and not here, because it was. While it was true that he’d been in Wyoming more often lately, it was only because of the new Grill opening in town. Once that was up and running he’d be straight back to the West Coast. Back to his high life and being featured in the celebrity news with his beautiful women.

No, marriage to Dylan Lassiter didn’t even bear thinking of, she decided as she forced herself to take another bite of the melt-in-your-mouth perfection of the meal he’d prepared. He might be spending more time in the boardroom these days, she mused, but he hadn’t lost his knack in the kitchen.

Maybe it would be worth marrying him just to have meals like this every day, she thought flippantly. An image of him barefoot and in the kitchen, wearing an apron and not much else, hovered in her mind, sending a pull of longing through her.

No, get a grip on yourself, she chided silently. She’d never settled for anything less than perfection when it came to a relationship. It was why she so rarely dated. That was why her behavior with Dylan back in March was such an aberration.

Once people began to notice her pregnancy, she had no doubt there’d be a whole ton of questions asked. Uncomfortable questions. Her hard-fought-for privacy would be invaded—her reputation open for all of Cheyenne to discuss. It shouldn’t bother her, but it did. She knew what it was like to be the focus of unwanted attention, and she’d worked hard to stay out of the public eye ever since.

“I’m glad you acknowledge that our child is important. I happen to agree, which is why I’m not going to rush into anything or make any decisions today,” she finally stated.

“You’re important, too, Jenna,” he answered softly.

For a second she felt a swelling in her chest—a glimmer of something ephemeral, an intangible dream emerging on the periphery of her thoughts. Then reality intruded. She shook her head.

“Don’t lie to me, Dylan. We both know that since March neither of us has made any attempt to contact or see one another, until today. In fact, if you didn’t have the restaurant opening coming up, we probably wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve thought about that evening a lot.”

Jenna couldn’t stop the warm tingling sensation that spread from the pit of her belly at his words.

“Don’t!” she blurted.

“Don’t what? Don’t admit that we were blisteringly good together? Tell me you haven’t thought about us, about what we did—and haven’t wanted to try again. Even just to see if it wasn’t some kind of weird fluke.”

“I—”

Her throat closed up, blocked by a swell of need so fierce it overwhelmed her. She forced herself to erase the visual image that now burned in the back of her mind. An image he’d put there without so much as a speck of effort because it was always there, always waiting to be brought out into the light and examined, relived. She squirmed on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable, aching. For him. For more.

“Fine,” she muttered curtly. “We were good together, but that’s no basis for a future. We are two totally different people. Our lives barely intersect.”

“That’s not to say that they couldn’t. Don’t you want to just try it?”

He looked so earnest, sitting there opposite her at the table. It would be all too easy to give in, but she’d worked too hard for too damn long to even consider giving up her hard-won freedom, not to mention her hard-earned respect from the community.

She herself had been the product of a hurried marriage, one that hadn’t worked on any level and had led to hardship and unhappiness for all concerned. She would not inflict that on her baby. No matter how enticing that baby’s father was. No matter how much she wanted him.

What did he know of marriage, of commitment? Their own liaison was a perfect example of the impulsive life he led. See something? Want it? Have it, then just walk away without a backward glance. She couldn’t risk that he’d do that with their child, let alone her. Not now, not ever.

“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t. Please don’t push me on this issue, Dylan.”

“Okay,” he acceded.

She felt her shoulders relax.

“For today,” he amended.

And the tension was right back again. He cracked a smile and she was struck again by his male beauty. There was not a thing about him, physically at least, that didn’t set her body on fire. As to his morals, well, that was something else entirely. But her behavior didn’t reflect so well on her, either, she reminded herself.

“Don’t look so serious, Jenna. We’ll declare a truce for this evening, all right?”

His voice was coaxing, warm. And almost her very undoing.

“Truce, then,” she agreed, and applied herself again to her meal.

It truly was too good to ignore and, much as she hated to admit it, he was right that she should be eating better. Weariness had been quite an issue for her, and while prenatal vitamins and supplements were helping, nothing really substituted for a healthy diet and plenty of rest.

“More?” Dylan asked when her plate was empty.

“I’m stuffed,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a smile on her face. “That was excellent, thank you.”

“Just part of the package,” he said with a smile. “So, are you too stuffed to think about dessert? Can I tempt you with some raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake?”

“Tempt me? Are you kidding? Of course I want dessert.”

When he took the dish from the refrigerator she almost dissolved into a puddle of delight.

“You made that, too?” she asked as he sliced a piece for her. She reached out and nabbed a white chocolate curl from off the top, laughing as he went to slap her hand away and missed.

“Not me personally this time. It’s one of the desserts we’re trialing for the steak house,” he said, sliding her plate toward her. “I picked it up this afternoon.”

She spooned up a taste and then another.

“Good?” Dylan asked.

“Divine. Don’t talk to me, you’re messing with my concentration.”

He laughed aloud and the sound traveled straight to her heart and gave it a fierce tug. Oh, yeah, it was all too easy to think you could fall in love with a man like Dylan Lassiter, she told herself. He was the whole package. Not just tall, dark and handsome, but wealthy, entertaining to be with and bloody good in bed. Well, in a coat closet, anyway. And then there was the near orgasmic cooking.

Don’t go there, she warned herself. But it was too late. Arousal spread through her like a wildfire. Licking and teasing at her until she felt her breasts grow full and achy, her nipples tightening and becoming almost unbearably sensitive against the sheer fabric of her bra. She knew the very second Dylan’s line of vision moved, the precise moment he became aware of her reaction.

“Remind me to feed you cheesecake more often,” he said, his voice slightly choked. “I’m going to make coffee. Can I offer you some, or a cup of something else, maybe?”

“Hot tea, please,” Jenna answered, fighting to get her wayward hormones back under control.

Dylan stood and turned away from the table, but not before she noticed he wasn’t exactly unaffected himself. So it seemed the crazy attraction between them showed no sign of abating. What on earth was she going to do about it?

Nothing. Abso-freaking-lutely nothing at all. They’d get through the rest of this evening. They might even discuss the baby a little more. But they were not going to do a single thing about this undeniable magnetism between them. After all, look where it had led them the last time.

* * *

Dylan ground fresh coffee beans and measured them into his coffeemaker, taking his time over the task. This was getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t she see just how suited they were to one another? Why wouldn’t anyone want to take that further? Her physical attraction to him was painstakingly obvious. Not that he needed any help in that department, but it was a natural trigger for his own.

There was a lot to be said for being a caveman, he thought as he switched on the electric kettle and heated the water for her tea. He’d never before felt so inclined to drag a woman by her hair into his lair and keep her there—making love to her until she no longer wanted to leave. He gave himself a mental shake. No, that image was completely unacceptable. He liked his women willing. He’d never used force or coercion before and he wouldn’t start now—no matter how tempting Ms. Jenna Montgomery made the idea seem. Somehow, he had to make her see that they’d be good together. Good enough for marriage and raising a kid.

He heard the scrape of her spoon on the plate as she finished her cheesecake, and he returned to the table with their hot drinks on a tray.

“Shall we take these back through to the living room?” he suggested.

“Sure.”

She got up to follow him and his eyes drifted again to her belly, to where his baby lay safely nestled. It roused something feral in him. Something he’d never experienced before today. Something he knew, deep in his heart, would never go away. He knew it was possible to love another person’s child—knew it from firsthand experience, from being that child, from being loved. For some reason, though, knowing it was his son or daughter she carried made Dylan feel as if he could give a certain superhero a decent run for his money in the leaping tall buildings department.

He also knew he’d do anything, lay down his life if necessary, to provide the best for his kid.

Jenna returned to her seat on the sofa and Dylan sat next to her, a sense of satisfaction spreading inside when she didn’t scoot away from him.

“When’s the baby due?” he asked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

“First week in December, all going well.”

“A baby by Christmas,” he mused aloud, struck by how much his life could change in a year.

“Life will be different, that’s for sure.”

“So what have you planned so far?”

Suddenly he needed to know everything she’d already done, and what she wanted to do for the rest of her pregnancy. This should involve him.

“Well, I’ve started getting a few things for the spare room in my house, you know, to turn it into a nursery. I found a bassinet at a yard sale last weekend. I’m going to reline it and get a collapsible stand. That way I’ll be able to use it in my office at the store as well as at home, until the baby gets a little bigger.”

Dylan suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through him at the thought that his child would have secondhand anything. Did that make him a snob? Probably. He and his brother had shared things as they grew up, and there’d been nothing wrong with that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to race out to the nearest store and buy all new equipment for his child, though.

Jenna, sensitive already, obviously picked up on his thoughts. “What’s wrong? You think our baby is too good for a secondhand bassinet?”

“Actually,” he started, thinking he needed to tread very carefully, “I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do to help out financially.”

If she was scouring yard sales, maybe she was a bit stretched when it came to money. She had the store, but also had her own home. Financing both took a lot of hard work and determination. And dollars and cents.

“I can manage, you know,” she said defensively.

“The point is you don’t have to manage,” he said. “I meant what I said when I told you I’m going to be a part of this baby’s life, and I don’t just mean the occasional visit. I’m happy to support you both.”

She looked as if she was about to bristle and reject his words, but then she slumped a little, as though a load had been lifted from her slender shoulders.

“Thank you.” She sighed softly. “It won’t be necessary, but I do appreciate the offer.”

“Hey,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and mentally comparing how small and dainty it felt in his much larger palm. It roused a fierce sense of protection inside him. One he knew would be smacked straight into next week if he showed her even an inkling of how she made him feel. “We got into this together, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes awash with moisture. “Do you think we can do that? Stay friends through this?”

“Of course we can.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” he commented.

At the same time he promised himself that no matter what, she would not be doing this on her own. And one way or another, he’d get her to change her mind about marrying him. Now that he had her back in his life, he didn’t want to let her go again. There was a damn fine reason why he hadn’t been able to shake her image from his thoughts every single day. Now he had every incentive to find out exactly what that reason was.


Five

By the time Jenna rose to leave, weariness pulled at every muscle in her body. She was grateful tomorrow was Sunday. A blessed day of rest, with time to weigh up everything that had happened since Dylan Lassiter had walked back into her life. Maybe she’d get to work in the garden for a while, too—she always found that restful. Or even a lazy stroll around the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens might be nice.

“It’s late,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’d better get home. Thank you for tonight. I mean that.”

“You’re welcome,” Dylan replied, getting to his feet and putting his hand at the small of her back again.

Despite her exhaustion, her body responded instantly. It would be so easy to give in. To turn toward him, press her body against his large hard frame and sink into the attraction between them. To allow him back behind the barriers she’d erected when the reality of their encounter had hit home. Instead, she put one foot in front of the other and headed for the door.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked, a small frown of concern causing parallel lines to form between his brows. “I don’t mind dropping you home. I can always bring your car to you tomorrow.”

“No, I’ll be all right. Thank you.”

“You know, independence is fine and all that, but accepting help every now and then is okay, too.”

“I know, and when I need help, I’ll ask for it,” she answered firmly.

She could feel the heat rolling gently from his body, bringing with it the leather and spicy wood scent of his cologne. It made her want to do something crazy, like nibble on the hard line of his jaw, or bury her nose in the hollow at the base of his throat. Man, she really needed to get out of here before she acted on those irrational thoughts.

“Thanks again for tonight,” she said.

“You’re welcome. We still have plenty more to discuss. Okay if I get in touch?”

She hesitated, wishing she could say no, and knowing she needed to say yes. Given the way he tugged at her, emotionally and mentally, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy sharing a baby with him. Jenna settled for a quick nod and all but fled down the stairs. But he was right at her side, so that when she got to her car it was his hand that opened the door for her. He leaned down once she was settled inside.

“Red fluffy dice?” he asked with a chuckle when he saw the things dangling from the rearview mirror of her ever-so-practical station wagon.

“I have dreams of owning a red convertible one day. Had dreams,” she corrected.

With the baby on the way, that was one dream that would have to be shelved for a while. Maybe even forever.

“Classic or new?” Dylan persisted.

“Classic, of course.”

He gave her a wink. “That’s my girl.”

She felt an almost ridiculous sense of pride in his obvious approval, and forced herself to quash it. It didn’t matter whether he approved of her dreams or not. They weren’t going to happen, not now. She was doing her best to hold everything else together. Luxury items were exactly that: luxury. An extravagance that was definitely not in her current budget.

“Well, good night,” she said, staring pointedly at his hand on the door.

To her surprise he leaned down and reached for her chin, turning her head to face him, before capturing her lips in an all too short, entirely too sweet kiss.

“Good night. Drive safe,” he instructed as he swung her door closed.

Her hands were shaking as she started the car and then placed them on the wheel. As she drove around the turning loop to head down the driveway, she sought refuge in anger. He’d done it on purpose, just to prove his point about compatibility. The thing was, she knew they were compatible sexually. Now they had to be compatible as parents. Seemed to her they’d definitely missed a few steps along the way, and now there was no going back.

His proposal of marriage was preposterous. She sneaked a glance in her rearview mirror at the two-story house, fully lit up from the outside and looking as unattainable as she knew a long-term relationship with a man like Dylan Lassiter was, too. Jenna forced her eyes forward, to focus on the road ahead, and her future. One where she’d have to fight to keep Dylan Lassiter on the periphery if she hoped to keep her sanity.

By the time she rolled her car into her garage and hit the remote to make the door close behind her, she felt no better. Seeing Dylan again had just put her well-ordered world into turmoil. She’d had enough chaos to last a lifetime. It was why, when she’d been placed with Margaret Connell after her father was jailed, she’d put her head down and worked her butt off to fit in and to do things right. Mrs. Connell’s firm but steady presence had been a rock to a fifteen-year-old teetering on the rails of a very unsteady life.

Mrs. Connell had not only provided a home for her, she’d provided a compass—one Jenna could live by for the rest of her life. The woman had also provided a sense of accountability, paying Jenna a wage for the hours she spent cleaning up in the florist shop after school and learning how to put together basic bouquets for people who came in off the street and wanted something quick and simple.

By the time Jenna had finished high school, she’d known exactly what she wanted to do. She’d put herself through business school, spending every spare hour she wasn’t studying working in the flower store, which she’d eventually bought and made her own. Mrs. Connell was now enjoying a well-earned retirement in Palm Springs, secure in the knowledge that all her hard work, both with Jenna and the business, hadn’t been in vain.

Jenna calculated the time difference between here and Palm Springs. It probably still wasn’t too late to call Mrs. Connell, and she so desperately needed the guidance of someone else right now. Someone older and wiser. Someone stronger than she was. But that would mean disclosing how she’d gotten herself into this situation. Telling someone else about behavior that she wasn’t terribly proud of. The last thing Jenna wanted to hear in her mentor’s voice was disappointment.

She climbed out of her car, went inside the house and got ready for bed. For all that Dylan had said about wanting to be a part of everything, she’d never felt so alone in her life, nor so confused.

Would he be so keen, she wondered, if he knew exactly who she was and what her life had been like? It was hardly the stuff of Disney movies. Her father had come home from work one day when she was nine, to find Jenna alone after school—her mother having abandoned them to sail, from New Zealand and her family, with the outgoing tide and pursue her dream of being a singer on a cruise ship. He’d pulled up stakes by the time Jenna was ten, and taken her to his native U.S.A., where he’d told her again and again that they’d strike it lucky any time, and that happily-ever-after was just around the corner for them both.

Unfortunately, his idea of luck had been inextricably linked to fleecing older, vulnerable women of their wealth, and using his looks and charm to get away with it. Until one day he’d gone a step too far.

Jenna pushed the memory to the back of her mind, where it belonged. She’d learned the hard way what it meant to be an unwitting public figure, and how cruel the media could be. Given the Lassiter family profile, any relationship between her and Dylan would be bound to garner attention—attention she didn’t want or need. For her own sake, and that of her unborn baby, she would do whatever it took to keep a low profile.

She slid between the 800-thread-count bed linens she’d happily picked up in a clearance sale, and smoothed her feet and legs over the silky soft surface. She might not be in his league financially, but she didn’t do so badly. She could provide for her baby, who certainly wouldn’t want for anything. So what if some of their possessions were a little care-worn or threadbare or—Jenna grimaced in the dark, remembering Dylan’s reaction—secondhand. She would manage, and her private life would remain that way: private.

* * *

Dylan whistled cheerfully as he drove away from the classic car dealer, relishing the sensation of the wind ruffling his hair. The thrum of the V8 engine under the shiny red hood before him set up an answering beat in his blood. Today was a perfect day for a picnic and he had just the partner in mind to share it.

After swinging by the Grill to make sure everything was running smoothly, he put together some food and drink, checked the GPS on his phone and headed toward Jenna’s address, which he’d happily plucked from a phone book. He was curious to see where she lived—where she’d planned to raise their baby. Planned being in the past tense, because now that he was on the scene, he didn’t intend for them to live apart. All he needed to do was convince Jenna.

When he turned into her driveway he had to admit he was surprised at where she lived: it was a new neighborhood, the streets lined with modern homes. Skateboards, bikes and balls littered the front yards. He could see why she’d be comfortable here. Even though he hadn’t seen anyone yet, there was a sense of community and projected longevity about the area.

He saw curtains in windows on either side of her house twitch as he turned off the ignition and sat a moment in the car. A smile played at his lips. Neighborhood watch, no doubt. It was good to know Jenna had people looking out for her when he wouldn’t be.

Dylan got out of the car. He couldn’t wait to see her face. He strode up the path that led to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Nothing. He waited a minute and tried again.




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