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The Late Bloomer's Baby
Kaitlyn Rice
Better Late Than NeverCallie Taylor's infertility treatments had finally paid off–after she and her husband split up. Now it's time to sign the divorce papers, and she's racked by guilt. How long will it be before Ethan notices the toddler she's been passing off as her nephew looks suspiciously like him?Meeting her ex again, after coming back to Kansas to help a sister, is a painful reminder of all the reasons she first fell for the big-hearted police officer–the man who made her bloom as a woman. And especially hard now that he's in a new relationship and Callie's second thoughts are two years too late.She's faced with two choices: either she lets another woman raise her baby–or she gives up a father for her son. Ethan, however, has a third choice in mind….



“We’re all working so hard at getting my sister back into her house.”
Callie paused, took a deep breath and then said, “I can’t take the time to meet with you and your attorney this week. I hope you understand.”
“Sure I do. I’ll cancel the appointment,” Ethan replied, and added in a low voice, “You can just sign the papers and mail them, Cal. No problem.”
There would be a problem, though—a huge one. With a couple of stamps and a signature or two, she could vastly increase her chance of losing her little boy, Luke.
“I think we probably do need to sit down with an attorney to make sure everything’s in order,” Callie said quickly. “Can it wait awhile, though?”
Until she’d had time to escape to Colorado…and then until she moved, leaving no forwarding address.
Dear Reader,
When I was developing the idea for this story, I figured that my reader letter would include a huge thank-you to the many people who helped south-central Kansans after the November 1998 floods. I still want to thank those people, and I also want to apologize to the fine folks of Augusta. Please note that I haven’t flooded your town again. I simply rewrote history, moving the 1998 flood to the present time.
As my own family sat in our west Augusta home the night the floodwaters rushed in, we had no idea about the magnitude of the struggle we were beginning. But we began to solve problems immediately. With our cars destroyed by the water, we had to find affordable transportation quickly. Several dear friends and family members helped with that. Next we had to find temporary housing. Again, a family member came through for us. Our list of difficulties was long, but we discovered that no problem was unsolvable. Eventually we recovered fully. (Although my husband is still cleaning tools.)
I think any marriage reaches a point where struggles begin to overtake the good times, but if the couple tackles those issues one by one, they can make it through to a stronger relationship. Is a story about a married couple romantic? I think so. What could be more romantic than a couple sharing a kiss at their fiftieth wedding anniversary? You just know that they must have weathered so many storms. My hero, Ethan, is stouthearted and gregarious—a type of person I’ve always enjoyed. And Callie is like so many of us. She recognizes truth deep in her heart, but sometimes she listens harder to those deeply ingrained falsehoods.
Enjoy their happy ending. I’d love to hear from you. Contact me through my Web site at www.kaitlynrice.com.
Kaitlyn Rice
The Late Bloomer’s Baby
Kaitlyn Rice


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my editors, Beverley Sotolov, Paula Eykelhof and Kathleen Scheibling, for your guidance and expert advice.
To Cathy C, for sharing your story about your journey toward motherhood. Especially for helping with details about the IVF process.
And to the many people who helped our family recover from the real Augusta flood in November of 1998: Mom Marianne, Mom Genny, Jamie and Jane, Billy, Jim, Mila, Kim and Lud, Connie, the Wilkersons, the Boyds, Randy’s Linda, the Boeing workers, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, the National Guard and the folks at the First Baptist Church, the First Methodist Church, Robinson School and the Augusta Animal Clinic.
In memory of Randy Qualls and Donna Foulke.
To anyone who helped in any way, thank you. You helped us make it through.

Books by Kaitlyn Rice
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
972—TEN ACRES AND TWINS
1012—THE RENEGADE
1051—TABLE FOR FIVE

Contents
Prologue (#uc63ad831-3fcf-5799-9f5d-dce6ecc712d3)
Chapter One (#uf2a6de9d-c313-53dd-99ae-2a8e7654c3ce)
Chapter Two (#u39f51708-b7cf-5836-b0ab-e1a569cd586c)
Chapter Three (#uccd38b3d-1b9b-5530-88ce-4736687eb81d)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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)

Prologue
A ringing woke Callie Taylor, and she reached for the alarm switch on her bedside clock. When she realized the sound had come from her phone, she groaned and lifted her head from the pillow to check the time.
Who would be calling at five-twenty in the morning?
It was probably a wrong number. Since she used her machine to screen calls, she’d set it to answer after one ring. She could sleep for a while and check for a message later.
But the timing of the call nagged her until she shoved her covers aside and padded from her bedroom. Pausing at the nursery doorway, she peered inside. Fortunately, the noise hadn’t disturbed Luke. Her eleven-month-old son lay flat on his back with his arms and legs flung across the mattress. Callie grinned as she continued toward the phone. Asleep or awake, her dark-haired sweetheart embraced life vigorously.
He was so much like his father.
Callie lost her smile at that thought, but shrugged off her regret. If anyone could revive the ignorant hopes of a newlywed bride, it wasn’t Callie. She excelled at science, not men.
After entering her great room, she heard her younger sister finishing a message and grabbed the phone. “Hey, Isabel. What’s going on? It’s not even six here in Denver.”
“Sorry about the early call. I…well, I needed to talk to you.”
Her hesitancy alerted Callie to trouble. She sank onto the sofa and tucked her bare legs beneath her nightgown. “What happened, hon?”
“The house flooded, Cal. Pretty bad. I’m calling from a church shelter.”
A sense of powerlessness socked Callie in the gut. Her sister lived five hundred and thirty miles away in Augusta, their south-central Kansas hometown. She might as well be across a sea.
“Lord, Izzy! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. So far, everyone is safe and accounted for.”
“Thank God.”
“I was home in bed when it happened, though.” Isabel’s voice vibrated as if she was trembling. “I heard a noise around three-thirty. Something like a crack or a pop. I got up to look around—for some reason the lights worked—and watched the basement fill as if it were a giant bathtub.” She laughed nervously. “I think the sound was a window breaking.”
Callie sat forward, hugging her knees as she began to shiver, too. “Did you leave then?”
“Well, no. The water was almost to the top of the porch. I couldn’t drive out so I called the Augusta police. A National Guard boat picked me up twenty-five minutes later. They took me to a big truck where other evacuees were waiting, and later they brought us all here to the church.”
Callie pictured her sister standing in the doorway of their childhood home, awaiting a middle-of-the-night rescue by strangers. She imagined her now, shaking and striving for bravery.
A thought struck then, and Callie pressed a palm against the growing knot in her stomach. Isabel had said that everyone was safe. That she was at a shelter. Apparently, more than just Isabel’s house had flooded.
Callie’s youngest sister also lived in Augusta. The Blume home was outside city limits to the south. Josie rented an apartment right in town. “Have you heard from Josie?” she asked.
“She’s fine. She said neighborhoods northeast of the middle school weren’t affected.”
Callie drew in a deep breath.
“The sirens woke her, though. She turned on the news and heard we were flooding. She tried to get to the house but the roads were impassable. She’d just returned when I called a minute ago. She’s on her way here to pick me up.”
Good. Her sisters were safe. They’d have each other until Callie arrived. “I’ll make arrangements and fly into Wichita today,” she said. “I can rent a car at the airport so we’ll have another vehicle to use, and we’ll—”
“Oh, no,” Isabel butted in, her voice firm. “I wanted you to know that Josie and I were safe, but you don’t need to come. You’ve got your work to think about, and, well, everything would be too difficult, wouldn’t it?”
“Are you kidding? I’ll take a leave of absence from BioLabs. My assistants can continue the trials. I need to be with my little sisters.”
“But you also have a baby to worry about,” Isabel said. “I don’t expect you to bring Luke. For the obvious reasons.”
Callie frowned through her sister’s patient explanation. Yes, her child would complicate this trip, and not simply because he was an infant.
Luke’s father lived in Wichita again now—just twenty miles west of Augusta. Ethan didn’t know—couldn’t know—of his son’s existence.
“I have no choice but to bring Luke,” Callie said, then heard a muffled male voice in the background, followed by Isabel’s response. Someone had lured her sister away from their conversation.
Seconds later, she came on the line again. “Sorry. People are waiting for the phone.” Isabel lowered her voice. “I did hear you, though. Are you sure you want to take the chance? Josie and I can handle things here, you know.”
That was right. Isabel had always been content to piggyback her emotions on the well-being of others, hadn’t she? It wasn’t that she didn’t feel her own feelings, but she derived such joy from her interactions with others. Such energy from their happiness. Even through this trauma, she’d appreciate Josie’s spunk. She would be fine. Maybe Callie could stay here in Denver, where she could keep Luke safe.
The man interrupted again. While her sister spoke to him, Callie considered taking the easy out.
No. Despite the risk, she had to go. At twenty-nine, Callie was the oldest of the Blumes. Now that their mother was gone, she felt protective of her sisters. Although Josie and Isabel were each smart and capable, they could surely use an extra brain and pair of hands.
“I’m coming,” she insisted when Isabel returned. “I’ll call Josie’s cell number when I know details about my arrival. We can talk then.”
After she hung up, Callie sat on the sofa for a moment, organizing her morning. She’d rush a shower, then pack for two. Later she’d call a travel agency. If she left Luke at the lab’s on-site day care for an hour, she could outline a task list for her assistants.
She’d be fine. She probably wouldn’t run into Ethan. If she did, she’d control her reaction.
When she caught herself toying with her wedding band and allowing her mind to wander, Callie sighed and rubbed her fingertips across her tired eyes.
She had no choice, really. She was headed home.

Chapter One
Three mornings had passed since heavy rains had caused the Walnut and Whitewater rivers to overflow. The flood-waters had receded now, but hundreds of homes had been abandoned. The muddy devastation at Isabel’s house had been tough to see. Turbid water had not only filled the basement, but had risen three feet onto the main floor.
Yesterday, a van load of volunteers had helped her sister cart much of the wreckage to the curb, but the pungent smells and endless mud would be harder to remove. Isabel wouldn’t even be allowed to live in the house until the damaged walls and systems had been repaired and inspected.
She’d need all the help she could get. Callie knew she’d been right to come. In spite of the necessity for plans and contingency plans.
In spite of her turmoil.
For the past hour, she’d been in the Hilltop Church gymnasium. After completing financial aid applications for Isabel, she’d joined dozens of others awaiting counsel from relief workers. The molded plastic seats were sticky, the area smelled like a neglected clothes hamper and folks were plainly too weary for small talk.
Callie had alternated between wondering about Luke’s welfare down a corridor in the nursery, and imagining Ethan appearing through the gym’s open double doors.
If he did, she’d be fine. He wouldn’t see her with Luke. She’d only have to deal with the trauma of seeing him again. However, as soon as possible, she intended to get her baby boy and escape to a place less public.
Good thing Ethan was from Wichita. He’d spent time in Augusta with Callie while they were dating, but he didn’t know many people here and vice versa. Chances were good that no one would talk to Ethan about her or her baby.
When her number was called, Callie clutched the clipboard to her chest and strode to the opposite end of the gym, where various relief agencies had set up temporary workstations.
“Let’s have a look, Miz Blume.” The worker met Callie’s gaze briefly as he took the paperwork, then he waved her into a chair across the table from him.
Callie wasn’t a Blume anymore, of course, but she didn’t bother to correct him. He looked vaguely familiar. He must remember her from her youth.
She hadn’t really considered herself a married woman for almost two years, anyway. Not since the day Ethan had abandoned their marriage and her life.
The man knit his brow as he read the application, then clicked his pen top once against the table as he turned the page. When he flipped the paper back, his scowl deepened.
Callie leaned forward in her chair, trying to see if she’d neglected to answer some question. When the man turned the page again with a heavy sigh, she reminded herself to be patient. She had no reason to worry. She’d analyzed every response as if it were test data.
The worker tossed the forms on top of his sizable stack, and Callie waited for him to speak. No matter whom he was helping, he should offer some instruction now, as well as a few kind words. But he didn’t. He sighed again and sat back in his seat, glaring past her head at the waiting crowd.
When Callie didn’t automatically vacate her chair, he repeatedly clicked his pen against the table. “‘Bout six weeks,” he said, then he clicked two more times before calling the next number.
Callie hadn’t been dismissed so rudely in a long time. She realized she was holding her limbs stiff, bracing herself against bitter memories. Of her mother, chasing outsiders from the yard with a pellet gun. Of the whispers she’d heard during her family’s rare visits to town. To the folks in Augusta, she would probably always be one of those Blume girls—a little pitiable, a bit mysterious and different enough to be feared.
But this man’s behavior, today, didn’t matter. Callie had returned to help her family, not to change people’s minds. She forced herself to relax, then stood and headed toward the open double doors. She’d locate her son in the nursery and get out of here.
Luke had plopped down in the middle of a round rag rug where several other toddlers were exploring a scattering of toys. While Callie approached, she watched her gregarious son hand a colorful block to a cute blonde who looked about his age, then another to a bigger boy.
Some days, everything Luke did reminded her of Ethan, and she spent a lot of time yearning for those wrecked hopes, and wishing that father and son could know each other.
But the risks would be too great. Just the thought of losing Luke caused Callie’s heart to race.
She had control, she reminded herself as she breathed slowly. Her husband had had only one contact with any of the Blumes over the past twenty-two months.
Before she’d come to Denver for Christmas last year, Isabel had run into him at a Wichita department store. Despite her affection for Ethan, she had let him know that the Blume women stuck together. That he should stay out of their lives.
Ethan probably wouldn’t come.
Callie was fine.
She picked up her son and cuddled him close, chuckling when he patted her cheeks and said, “Mum-mum.”
After thanking the nursery attendants, Callie retrieved her portable stroller from the coat closet, wrangled it open and clipped her son inside. She looped the diaper-bag strap over her shoulder, then wheeled Luke into the hallway.
As she prepared to enter the chill of a mid-April morning, she crouched down to zip Luke’s tiny red jacket and lift the hood over his dark brown hair. “Ready to go to Aunt Josie’s?” she asked.
In answer, Luke stuck a finger in his grinning mouth.
Callie smiled, happy that at least he’d have two loving aunts in his life. She stood and pushed the stroller toward the parking lot. People were too busy to pay much attention, but she didn’t want to be seen often with Luke.
On her way to the rental car, Callie reminded herself that Ethan had chosen the estrangement, not her. Yet if he learned about Luke, she’d risk losing the baby.
Ethan was Luke’s biological parent.
Callie wasn’t.
Thanks to a miracle of science, Ethan had actually left before she got pregnant. The fertility treatments had failed during the previous twenty-six cycles, so she’d held little hope for that last set of appointments at the clinic. And, after all, her husband had left her six weeks before.
However, Ethan’s presence hadn’t been necessary, and Callie had needed only to prepare her body for pregnancy and undergo the procedure. She’d imagined how wonderful life would be if her husband came home to such happy news, and she’d tried one last time.
She’d gotten lucky.
A precious life had implanted itself in her womb, and she’d maintained the pregnancy. In the end, it hadn’t even mattered that she’d had to use a donor egg. Only that she carried Ethan’s child. She’d been overjoyed.
But Ethan had never returned.
Callie hadn’t been able to overcome her broken heart to seek him out and tell him. She’d been alone when she decided to keep those last appointments. She’d been alone when she nurtured herself through pregnancy and childbirth. She’d gone on with her life. Precious Luke was hers alone.
Life would be easier if she thought of Ethan as an impartial sperm donor.
By the time she’d loaded Luke into his car seat, his bottom eyelids were turning pink. He’d been a trouper through all this, but the change in routine must bother him. Maybe he’d fall asleep on the way to Josie’s place.
After buckling him in, Callie pulled his favorite teddy bear from a diaper-bag pocket. She cranked the gear on its back that would play a tinkling version of Brahms’s “Lullaby,” then handed the toy to her son before loading the rest.
As she drove away from the church, she wondered how much progress her sister had made with the cleanup. In addition to the house, Isabel had inherited Blumecrafts, their mother’s home-based quilt and handmades business. She had no choice but to recover quickly.
Minutes later, Callie parked behind Josie’s building and noticed Isabel’s used two-door under the carport. Thanks to her auto insurance coverage, she’d replaced her destroyed vehicle yesterday. Unfortunately, her homeowner’s policy didn’t cover flood damage. Either her sister had dropped by to find out what Callie had learned from the financial aid people, or something had happened.
Callie opened the rental car’s back door and released Luke from his child seat. She chuckled when he squealed and bounced in her arms. Even after his too-short nap, he’d awakened easily and happily.
So much like his father.
Callie shuffled Luke onto a hip, grabbed the diaper bag, decided to leave the stroller in the trunk and locked the car before heading toward the building. Seconds later, she walked straight into Josie’s apartment through the open hallway door.
She found Isabel in the kitchen scrubbing grime from a sinkful of small craft tools. “Maybe you can leave the front door open at the house,” Callie said, “but you shouldn’t do that here. Anyone could come in.”
Isabel didn’t turn around. She had pulled her brown hair off her neck, emphasizing a tired droop to her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said. “The kids went out to look at my car a minute ago. They thought it was new, instead of new to me. Guess they forgot about the door.”
What kids?
Callie frowned as a tiny girl of above five and an over-weight boy maybe twice her age, each redheaded, came running into the hallway from Josie’s bedroom. The boy yelled something about the electronic game in his hand, while the girl tried to snatch it. After pausing to check out Callie and Luke, they took their noisy argument down the hallway and back to the bedroom.
“Who are they?” Callie asked, dropping Luke’s diaper bag on the kitchen table.
“Roger Junior and Angie.”
Callie had spent the past couple of days watching divorced farmer Roger Senior neglect her sister, but she hadn’t met his children until now. She frowned as the little girl’s shrieks grew louder. “Why are they here?” she asked.
“I’m babysitting.” Isabel glanced over her shoulder and smiled, which was amazing under the circumstances. She was temporarily homeless and scrubbing her fingers raw, yet once again her boyfriend was exploiting her giving nature.
And once again, Isabel was allowing it.
Callie put Luke down to crawl around on the floor, then crossed the room and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. As she pulled them into a healthier position, she said, “You’ll strain your neck muscles. Don’t you have important things to do today?”
Isabel dropped a quilting hoop onto a towel and turned around to lean against the counter. “Yes, but Roger had some barley to check and the kids’ school is closed this week,” she said. “The kindergarten corridor got half an inch of floodwater.”
“Roger should have kept his children home,” Callie said. “They are surely old enough to be alone an hour with their dad on the property. Especially the boy.”
Isabel closed her eyes, as if trying to block the censure in Callie’s expression. “He gets more done with them gone.”
“Where’s their mom?”
“Working at the discount mart.”
As her sister listed excuses for Roger and his ex-wife, Callie lifted her brows. After a minute, she sighed. She had often told her patient sister that Isabel would go berserk if she didn’t learn to stand up for herself, but if the devastation of a flood didn’t do it, Callie didn’t know what would.
Luke crawled toward the kitchen door, clearly lured by the hooting coming from the bedroom. Callie chased after him and scooped him into her arms before he moved out of sight.
“Anyway, it’s okay,” Isabel said. “Since you’re here, I can go to the house. Do you mind watching three kids for a while?”
“Nope.” Callie intended to give her sister whatever help she needed. As she transferred Luke from one arm to the other, she realized she hadn’t told Isabel about her morning at the church. “I filed the paperwork,” she said.
“Did they tell you anything?”
“Just that you’d hear within six weeks,” Callie said. “But I did learn that some charities are offering immediate aid in smaller amounts. I’ll check that out tomorrow.”
“I need money right away,” Isabel said, her blue eyes wide. “I’ll have to hire an electrician, a plumber and a couple of carpenters. We can’t handle the more complicated repairs, and I’m already behind on Blumecrafts’ orders.”
“I know. This money is meant for toiletries and clothes.” Dropping into a chair with Luke in her arms, Callie added, “I also learned that you aren’t the only one who got caught without flood insurance, Izzy. I heard a FEMA guy say he figured that less than a hundred Augustans were covered.”
“But there are eight thousand people living here!”
Callie nodded, then smiled at her sister. “When I was waiting to turn in the paperwork, I got the strangest feeling. Everyone in the waiting area looked overworked, maybe a little lost. For once, I felt like one of them.”
“I guess if there’s an upside to this flood, it’s that we Blumes are just a part of the crowd,” Isabel said. “And of course that we get to spend time together. I miss having you around, Cal.”
Their reclusive mother hadn’t trusted school officials, and had taught Callie and her sisters at home from kindergarten through high school graduation. For the most part, she had kept them at home, isolated from a world she considered evil. They’d felt like three against the world. Sometimes, they still did.
“I miss you and Josie, too.” Callie studied her youngest sister’s colorful kitchen. “You’ll be okay with money, I think. I’ll help with the bigger expenses until your funds come through, and Josie can help you refinish the inside of the house without it costing too much. We’re lucky to have an interior designer as a sister.”
As Isabel nodded her agreement, a loud scream sounded from the bedroom. Both women winced, and Luke’s wiggles grew more vigorous. “I hope Josie doesn’t mind having kids in her apartment,” Isabel said. “Or us cramping her space.”
“She’ll get over it.”
Roger’s children raced into the kitchen, and Roger Junior interrupted the conversation to ask if he and his bird-brained sister could watch television. Then the children continued their squabbling in loud whispers that made Luke giggle.
Had the entire world become bad mannered, or only the people in Augusta? Callie caught her sister’s eye and shook her head. Then she glared at the kids until they quieted.
“Well, Isabel, as you were saying, I’m here now,” Callie said, hoping to send a clear message that interruptions would not be tolerated. “You can go on over to the house.”
After Isabel had disappeared into Josie’s bedroom to get ready, Callie narrowed her gaze at Roger Junior. “One hour of television. Nothing lewd or violent.”
She followed them into the living room, where they flopped onto the carpet in front of the TV. When Roger Junior got up to grab a bag of chips from the top of Josie’s refrigerator, Callie stopped him. “No snacks in the living room,” she said, and ignored his complaints.
She left Luke on the living-room floor and waited for her sister to appear from the bedroom. “Will Roger’s kids eat lunch here?” she asked as Isabel carried a box of plastic gloves and some bottled cleaners to the front door.
“Roger should arrive to get them any minute,” Isabel said. “If he doesn’t, there’s peanut butter in the pantry.”
After Isabel left, Callie latched a baby gate across the kitchen entrance, shut the bathroom and bedroom doors and tossed a soft ball on the floor for Luke to chase around.
“You kids help me keep the baby safe, would you?” she bellowed over the noise of some cartoon. “If you open this gate, close it behind you. Doors, too.”
Roger Junior pressed the mute button on the TV remote control and glanced up. “Sure, ma’am.”
Callie noticed the change. With Isabel gone, the boy had become more respectful. Callie would guess that he took his cues from his father.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“Are you really a doctor?”
Grateful for his belated show of manners, Callie smiled. “Yes. I’m not an M.D., though. I’m a research scientist.”
“You look at human brain cells in petri dishes?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
The boy stuck his thumb up between them and scrunched his entire face into a smile. “Call me R.J.,” he said before he turned up the sound and returned his attention to the cartoon.
Callie chuckled, suspecting she’d just been given a supreme compliment.
“Can I pway wif your baby?” Angie asked.
Callie showed her how to roll the ball to Luke, and kept watching until all three kids were occupied. Then she climbed over the baby gate to search Luke’s diaper bag for a bottle.
Someone rang the doorbell. Must be the kids’ dad. Callie decided she’d offer to babysit for a while longer so Roger could hightail it to the house to help his girlfriend.
“R.J., answer the door, please,” she hollered, as she crossed to the kitchen sink to fill the bottle with water. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Callie heard the door open, then an extended silence. She poked her head around the corner just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man close the door behind himself.
But it wasn’t Roger.
It was Ethan.
The only man Callie had ever loved or trusted, and the only man who could hurt her.
Then. Now.
Forever.
Lord. In all the commotion, she’d forgotten her all-important plan. She wasn’t supposed to answer doorbells when she and Luke were alone. She should have thought harder about who might be standing on the other side of that door.
Luke sat facing the front door and smiling with the golden-brown eyes and dimpled cheeks that made him the spitting image of his daddy.
Rethinking her plan wasn’t an option. Callie barely remembered to keep her legs under her body. She propped a hand against the baby gate and watched as Ethan surveyed the children sprawled around Josie’s living room.
Did his eyes linger when they passed over his son, or was that Callie’s imagination?
Ethan’s gaze sailed across the space to meet hers. “Hello, Callie,” he said. As he stepped farther into the room, his eyes darkened to a serious brown.
He’d reacted to seeing her, not the baby, she realized.
Lucky thing. Callie’s secret was safe for the moment.
Still, her pulse pounded so furiously in her ears that she had the crazy notion Ethan could hear it, too. Her throat was dry, and her muscles were wobbly.
She needed to sit down.
No, she needed to grab her baby and make a run for it. But Luke was very near his father, which would mean that Callie would have to dash right past Ethan on her way out.
Right past the solid chest that had caught a million of her tears. Right past those muscular arms, and that passionate mouth.
That damn sexy, passionate mouth.
When her stomach flipped, Callie had the panicky thought that her raging feelings didn’t stem from fear alone. Ethan was achingly handsome, and she’d missed him.
Desire assaulted her so hard she almost forgot she had a secret to protect. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room to touch Ethan, just to feel the crackle and comfort of a sensuality she’d never experienced with anyone else.
It had been too long since she’d seen her husband.
Paradoxically, it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

Chapter Two
Ignoring her body’s idiotic fight-or-flight response, Callie stepped over the baby gate to enter Josie’s living room. “Hello,” she said coolly, as if Ethan was an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in a while. She sat on the sofa, propped the bottle against the cushion next to her and crossed her legs, as if she had nowhere to go and nothing to lose.
Ethan shook his head. “Is Josie dating a man with kids, or are you running a child care center?”
The presence of Roger’s kids was fortunate. Callie wouldn’t have to strain her temporarily useless brain cells. Obviously, Ethan had assumed that Luke belonged with the other two children.
She studied the two redheaded kids, then Luke. The baby’s hair was almost black. Except for the curls at his neck that Callie adored too much to snip off just yet, it was thick and straight—just like Ethan’s.
Her lively boy shrieked and threw the ball straight at Angie’s face, bonking the little girl on the nose. A mischievous little brother would do such a thing, wouldn’t he? Callie could use the situation to her advantage.
“Isabel’s got the boyfriend with kids, not Josie,” she mumbled, hoping the children wouldn’t notice her error of omission. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the kids, then caught the ball as it rocketed toward the baby’s face. He bounced it on his palm a couple of times, then tossed it to Callie.
“No face shots,” she said as she returned the ball to Angie. “The little guy doesn’t have good motor control yet. He didn’t mean to hit you.”
Callie looked at Ethan and wished she had the ball back. She wanted to bonk his nose and shock that warm expression from his eyes.
“I came to check on Isabel, but no one was home when I went by her house a few minutes ago,” Ethan said.
“She just left to head out there. You must have passed her on the road.”
“I’ll give her a few minutes and try again.” He claimed the chair by the door, which happened to be the one nearest his son—who threw back his head and cackled exactly the way Ethan did when he was tickled.
Someone was going to notice the resemblance.
Callie swooped across the room and grabbed Luke, then returned to sit on the sofa and offer him the bottle of water.
Everyone in the room stared at her.
“It’s time for his nap,” she announced, ignoring her baby’s struggle to escape her arms.
Of course, Ethan would check on her sister. In her heart of hearts, Callie had expected him to, hadn’t she? As many times as she’d told herself not to worry, that he might not come, she wasn’t surprised. Ethan didn’t have ties to Augusta anymore, but he’d always had a compulsion to rescue anyone in distress. That was what had attracted him to police work.
To her, as well. She was sure of it now.
The strength of her reaction to him had startled her, though, as had her impulse to smile and ask if he found their son amazing.
God. She could never do that. Ethan had made his choice. He’d returned to Kansas without her. In doing so, he’d forced her to abandon one dream and focus on another.
As Luke’s fussy whimper escalated to a lusty bawl, she stood and carried him toward the kitchen.
Ethan spoke over the noise. “I’ve been listening to flood reports all week. I was off duty the night the water broke through the levee, but my patrol buddies made a few passes and told me about it.”
It sounded as if he was following her. Callie stepped over the baby gate and turned around.
He was standing just on the other side. The flimsy plastic slats separating her husband from his fussing child couldn’t possibly be tall or thick enough. Callie bounced Luke, trying to soothe him and think at the same time.
She didn’t want Ethan’s attention on the baby, so she put Luke down and hoped he’d crawl in the other direction.
The ornery little guy sat peering up at his daddy, then hiccupped a few times as his cries subsided.
Ethan chuckled. “I guess the little tyke isn’t sleepy after all,” he said, and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of babysitting. It just takes hands-on experience.”
Callie ignored the comment. “You’re still in west Wichita, then?”
“I would have told you if I’d moved.” He inched forward, until they were separated by only the slats and about a foot of space. But at least he focused on her instead of Luke. “I needed time to put our problems into perspective, but I wouldn’t lose track of you.”
She wondered if that were true, but she couldn’t pursue the subject with Luke at her feet and Roger’s big-eared, big-mouthed children nearby.
Ethan’s ignorance about Luke was crucial.
It would save her son the heartache of growing up with warring parents or living a divided life.
It would save her from having to battle her husband on any front.
And it would save them all from Ethan’s unfortunate tendency to do the heroic thing at any cost.
During their courtship, she and Ethan had spent a lot of time discussing her childhood. Callie’s father had left when her mother was pregnant with Josie. Despite a fierce independence, Ella Blume had struggled to raise three daughters alone. She’d always insisted that the girls’ father was worthless, and that she’d never known an honorable man.
Ethan had wanted to prove Ella wrong, and Callie and Ethan had each wanted to prove they could make their marriage work.
Maybe her mother had been right about some things. Maybe men weren’t built for forever. Maybe they did mistake lust for love.
Maybe Ethan had felt only chemistry, a challenge to prove himself and sympathy for a shy young woman who’d had to be taught just about everything.
Callie didn’t want to be his project anymore. She certainly didn’t want to be the woman he returned to because of a child. She’d loved him deeply. She’d probably always love him—from a distance.
At this moment, Callie wanted to convince Ethan to abandon his thoughts of seeing Isabel, and leave. But how?
She stalled for time by checking Luke’s diaper, and when she glanced up she almost groaned at the gleam in Ethan’s eye. He was watching her in that way. She had to do something, fast.
She’d pick a fight, but keep it low-key. She didn’t want to upset Luke again or draw the older kids’ attention away from the television—which, she realized in that instant, was silent.
Callie glanced toward the living room. Roger’s kids were standing just beyond the sofa, gawking at her and Ethan. Had the hushed adult conversation caught their attention, or were the children expecting a fight? Whichever it was, apparently she and Ethan were more interesting than the latest hit Japanese cartoon.
Smiling at Angie, Callie said, “Josie has Popsicle treats. Want one?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the freezer and pulled out two red ones—she had neither the energy nor the wits to referee a brawl right now—then she hurdled the gate and strode past Ethan to hand them to the kids. “Eat in here,” she commanded. “And watch anything you want on TV.”
The markedly confused kids plunked down in their previous places, clicked the television on again and peeled the paper from their treats.
Callie reclaimed her spot on the kitchen side of the gate. “Go away, Ethan. We have too much bad history. Your being here would…” Her voice trailed off when she noted her husband’s scowl.
He stepped over the gate, rushed past Callie and caught the diaper bag just before Luke pulled it onto his head. “You have to watch babies this age,” Ethan said as he set the bag in the middle of the table. “Some of my friends have them, and they can get into a lot of trouble.”
Another calamity averted, by quick-moving Ethan. Callie wasn’t usually so slow, except she was distracted. By Ethan, darn him. After crossing the kitchen, Callie stuck her hand in the diaper bag. She located Luke’s favorite plastic blocks and tossed them onto the kitchen floor.
Luke ignored them, choosing instead to grasp the knees of Ethan’s jeans to pull himself up. The little devil stood on sturdy legs, opened his mouth, looked at Callie and said, “Mum-mum.”
Not Mama exactly, but almost.
Callie opened the freezer door and grabbed another red Popsicle. She unwrapped it and handed it to Luke, who plopped his well-padded bottom onto the floor to examine this new kind of food.
As her little boy began to create a colossal mess on his face, hands and clothes, Callie returned her attention to Ethan. “As I was saying, we can’t be around each other.”
“I think we’d do all right.”
Callie shook her head. “The flood put my sister’s life in turmoil. Our bickering would make things worse. Just go.”
“I have no intention of fighting with you, Callie.”
“Believe me, we’d fight.” Callie caught a motion out of the corner of her eye and looked down.
Luke was banging his goopy snack against Ethan’s shoe.
Ethan looked, too, but he didn’t react. “Are you still that upset with me?” he asked, and offered Callie one charming dimple.
She sighed. Her feelings for Ethan were overwhelming, especially with him just inches away, gazing at her through eyes that warmed her faster than any form of external heat.
But anger was still somewhere in the mix.
She nodded.
Ethan eased his foot away from Luke. “Will you be in Kansas for a while or do you have to get back to your job?”
“I took a leave of absence.”
“You did?”
“Josie and I are all the family Isabel has, Ethan. I’m not so detached that I’d stay in Denver while she’s going through something like this.”
He nodded. “All right. Then I’ll concede for now,” he said. “I’ll try Isabel’s house again. I want to at least offer her my best wishes.”
Callie hesitated. If Ethan went to the house alone, Isabel would refuse to talk to him. She’d follow the plan.
But if Ethan mentioned that he’d been inside Josie’s apartment—that he’d spoken to Callie or watched the children playing—Isabel might not know how to react.
Callie stood up straighter, as if to add oomph to her words by speaking them from a higher plane. “She’s probably at the house by now, but she’s working hard. Let’s not disturb her.”
Ethan pulled paper towels from Josie’s countertop holder and wiped red slush from his shoe. “If she’s busy I’ll stay only a minute.”
Callie extended her open palm. After Ethan had deposited the towel there, she held his gaze and tried to look stern. “You can’t go to the house.”
“Sure I can.”
“Ethaa-nn!”
“Callie!”
She broke the stare and walked toward the sink, intending to toss the towel into Josie’s wastebasket. On the way, she stepped in one of Luke’s slush puddles, slid on one foot and almost landed on her bottom. She gripped the counter and turned to glower at Ethan, whose expression held a glint of laughter.
She could slap him silly.
Or kiss him.
Lord. How could she even think that? She should have learned her lesson when Ethan had left her.
She had learned her lesson.
Apparently, recognizing the wrongness of something didn’t stop her from wanting it. But she could resist. Ella Blume had raised strong daughters. And smart ones. Callie could handle this.
Wiping her sneaker with the same paper towel Ethan had used, she scrambled to think of some indisputable reason for him to return to Wichita without seeing her sister.
He spoke first. “Look at the bright side. This way, you won’t have to deal with me a minute longer. But you and I should talk before you head back to Colorado.”
She tossed the towel on the counter and eyed him. “About what?”
“The marriage,” he said, his face impassive. “We are still married.”
Yes, they were. If Callie didn’t have an irresistibly cute, diaper-clad reason for shying away from legal proceedings, she would have divorced Ethan a long time ago. But she’d never wanted to draw his attention to her life. She’d done some checking soon after Luke’s birth, and had learned that a discussion of children showed up on most divorce documents. A couple either had minor children or didn’t, and filed papers accordingly.
Even if she’d lied, stating that she and Ethan had no children, she’d feared that Ethan would show up in Denver for one last talk and get the surprise of his life. Now Callie resisted an urge to check on Luke, who had crawled beyond the table and chairs where she couldn’t see him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t file for divorce,” Ethan said.
Callie shrugged. She’d had nightmares about this day. She’d blocked reality, hoping that Ethan would follow in her father’s footsteps and disappear, still legally married but uninterested in active participation. While that might have been a pipe dream, it had worked for her mother. It had worked for Callie for almost two years.
Why not forever?
Ethan jangled his keys in his pocket and stepped over the baby gate. Callie couldn’t let him go to the house alone. With Isabel’s phone out of commission, she couldn’t even call to warn her sister about the slight change in plans.
“I’ll go with you,” Callie said, searching the kitchen floor for Luke.
“Wouldn’t that defeat your goal?” Ethan said. “I thought you wanted me out of your way.”
She wanted him to leave without discussing a divorce, and if she spent much time in his company she feared the subject would come up.
She ignored his comment. “Give me a minute to change the baby,” she said. Then she grabbed sticky Luke from beside the microwave stand and the diaper bag from the table, and vaulted past Ethan. She turned off the television on her way to the bathroom.
“Kids, finish the Popsicle treats. We’re going to Isabel’s.”
“Dad says her place isn’t safe,” R.J. said as he scrambled to his feet.
Callie stepped into the bathroom and opened both sink taps. “You’ll be fine,” she hollered as she soaked a wash-rag and cleaned Luke’s face. “The floodwater has been pumped out. Just avoid anything that looks dangerous.”
“Can your baby go?” Angie called out. “Daddy says the water was combob-ulated!”
“That’s contaminated, birdbrain,” R.J. said.
But it was Angie’s little-girl sweet voice that reverberated in Callie’s mind.
Your baby, she’d said.
Not the baby.
Callie cringed, then carried Luke into the hallway to gauge Ethan’s reaction. He was standing by the front door, checking his wallet. He didn’t appear to have heard, thank heaven.
“Don’t worry about the baby,” Callie said to Angie. “And don’t worry about your safety. I’ll protect all of you.”
Roger’s kids gave her funny looks, but she ignored them and returned to the bathroom to finish getting Luke ready. Their opinions about her sanity meant very little.
Ethan’s continued cluelessness was paramount.
AS HE DROVE TOWARD the old Blume house, Ethan felt a hollowness in his gut. Officials were still speculating about why the levee had failed. Even if engineers determined a cause, affected folks would probably always fear heavy rains. Or they’d move to higher ground.
The neighborhood of small row houses at the southernmost tip of Augusta had been hit hard. Tall piles of ruined furniture lined the curbs and smaller pieces of garbage had drifted everywhere. Limbs and soggy papers dotted driveways and lawns, old tires rested on budding bushes, and some kid’s plastic play gym adorned the middle of an elaborate garden. The upturned slide matched the color of the jonquils blooming at the garden’s edge.
Those bright little beacons of hope couldn’t be cheerful enough. A lot of people had a lot of work to do. Some would have to start over entirely.
It was just as bizarre to travel the few miles out of town with Callie trailing him like a bloodhound on the scent of a fugitive. His normally cautious wife had already run one red light in her effort to keep up with him, and her eyes were glued to his car’s bumper.
She was acting very strange.
Maybe she was as affected as he was by the reunion. Sweet mercy, she was beautiful. Her long blond hair had always been pretty, but today it looked thicker. Her boyishly thin body had filled out, too. He’d always admired her legs, but the added curves made her almost too powerfully feminine.
He’d always suspected that she’d be a late bloomer.
He wondered if she had someone to confide in these days—someone other than her sisters, who held many of the same distorted beliefs that she did.
Callie was brilliant in every way but socially. She might help find a cure for cancer someday, but she couldn’t see that her mother had been wrong to bundle all men together and toss them out like last week’s newspaper.
Ethan had rescued Callie, once. He’d pulled her away from her mother’s erroneous teachings and into life. He’d relished his protective role until the stresses of energy-zapping careers, Ella’s death and carefully timed love-making had torn them apart.
During that last year, they’d hardly been friends.
The separation had probably convinced Callie that her mother had been right all along, but Ethan couldn’t worry about that any longer. His days of proving his devotion to Callie were finished.
He’d come to Augusta to check on Isabel, just as he’d said, but he’d known all along that he intended to speak to Callie if he saw her. He’d had divorce papers ready for over three months, ever since his first date with his chief’s niece last New Year’s Eve.
Dating LeeAnn felt wrong since he wasn’t legally free, but he’d hated the idea of sending the papers to Callie by courier. He’d made plans to fly to Denver several times, but something had always come up. On one of his free weekends, LeeAnn had invited him to her mother’s birthday celebration. Another time he’d been called in off-duty to help locate a four-year-old girl who had vanished from her grandmother’s backyard. Often the end of his shift didn’t correspond with the end of his call-out, and he used his off hours to recuperate.
Maybe he’d avoided the task for other reasons. After loving a woman like Callie, dating again was difficult. But it was time to move on and he knew it.
Ethan would talk to Callie long enough to assure himself of her well-being, then he’d tell her about the papers and make arrangements for the two of them to meet with his lawyer. He’d pay for the whole shebang, and if she asked for anything he’d be generous. Callie had nothing to lose, and LeeAnn would be pleased.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, ensuring that Callie was still behind him as he drove up to the house.
Set back from the road about thirty yards, the old Blume homestead was surrounded by lush trees and bushes. Ella had cherished her privacy. Today, the house also sported a lonely pile of discards near the ditch. A floral sofa rested atop a mattress, which was piled on top of quite a few other ruined items. Ethan could imagine the destruction inside. Isabel must be very shaken.
After unfastening his seat belt, Ethan pulled his checkbook from the glove box. He could at least offer Callie’s sister some financial help. Since he wouldn’t need to fly to Denver to talk to Callie about the divorce, he could put that money to better use.
Two car doors slammed, then Ethan watched the two older children emerge from Callie’s car and race toward the house. Callie followed, lugging the youngest boy and the diaper bag.
Ethan opened the door, stepped out and slipped the checkbook into a hip pocket. It hurt to see how easily Callie balanced the smallest child on her hip. She’d wanted children—she’d ached for them. Babysitting must be tough for her.
Callie didn’t glance backward at the sound of his car door slamming, and she appeared to be in an awful hurry. She opened the storm door and the inside door for the kids, followed them inside and closed the doors behind her.
Ethan stopped in the drive. Boorish behavior was Callie’s biggest pet peeve. Perhaps she’d forgotten he was right behind her and planning to come inside.
Or maybe she didn’t want to see him.
He stepped onto the porch and knocked on the storm door. Callie couldn’t have gone far. If she didn’t answer, he was prepared to let himself in. Hell, he’d bust the door down if necessary. And he wouldn’t leave until he learned why his normally cool wife was acting crazy. In the past, she’d lost her composure only when they were arguing.
Or when they were in bed.
The memory sent a rush of want through his body, and left him standing on Isabel’s porch feeling half-turned-on.
Sweet mercy. He couldn’t think about Callie that way.
He opened the storm door and scanned the interior door for weak places to bust through. Before he could knock, however, Isabel answered. Her hair had fallen from a bun and she wore a stained sweatshirt.
After they’d greeted each other, she stood smiling at him, but she didn’t come out and she kept her body wedged in the narrow crack.
He wasn’t surprised. Apparently, Callie’s sisters thought she needed their protection. “You’re not going to ask me in, are you?”
“Uh, no.”
He pulled out his checkbook. “I’m going to help someone in this town, even if it’s just to donate money. I’d prefer it if that someone was you.”
“Oh.” Isabel blinked. “You don’t have to give me money, Ethan. I’ll be okay.”
“It’s your choice,” he said. “I’ll donate three hundred bucks to you personally, or I’ll let the Salvation Army distribute it however they see fit.”
“Oh. Well, great. I’m sure they can use the help. Thanks.” Isabel smiled.
“I’d rather help someone I know,” he said. “And if you take my money, I’ll get some of my work buddies to help with a larger donation for charity.”
Isabel still seemed unconvinced, so he raised his eyebrows and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “A few hundred dollars might replace that sofa out there.”
She sighed heavily. “All right.”
“I need a pen.” Ethan had a pen, but he hoped this latest ploy would get him past the door.
“Just a minute.” When Isabel shut the door in his face, Ethan realized she intended to find a pen and bring it out. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. When he heard murmurs overhead, he realized that Callie and the kids must be hiding in Isabel’s attic storeroom.
That was fine. Strange, but fine. They wouldn’t stay up there long. Callie wouldn’t want the children to be frightened in the dark, stuffy space.
As he waited for Isabel, Ethan wandered into the living room. It was devoid of furniture, the carpeting had been stripped and the walls showed a dingy line of discoloration from the water. The wet wallboard would need to be replaced. The insulation, too.
When Isabel returned, she acted surprised to discover him inside. “Oh! Ethan, you’re in here,” she said in a loud voice that bounced off the bare walls.
He’d been announced, and he didn’t care. He frowned at Isabel and waved a hand at the room’s mess. “I’m sorry about all this, Izzy.”
“It’s hard to look at, isn’t it? Anything below three feet was ruined by the water, including every single thing in the basement. Mom’s old textbooks, the boxes of Christmas things.” She smiled sadly. “Remember that old cedar chest?”
Yes, he did. Ella had refused to tell Callie and her sisters about the old piece, so they believed it had belonged to their father. “Sure I do,” he said.
Isabel shrugged. “It came unglued. The pieces floated everywhere.”
Ethan took her hand briefly, offering a consoling squeeze. “Save the pieces,” he said. “It could probably be repaired.”
She offered him the pen. “Maybe.”
As he wrote, he asked, “What are you working on now?”
Isabel sighed. “We’re ready to tear out the wallboard and hire a crew to replace it.”
At least she was on the right track. “You have people helping you, then?”
“I have plenty of help.”
Isabel shot a glance at the ceiling, and Ethan knew Callie was behind her odd behavior. The Blume sisters stuck together no matter what. If he wanted to talk to Callie, he was going to have to entice her from the attic. Isabel wasn’t likely to help.
Ethan ripped out the check and handed it to Callie’s sister. “Excuse me, Izzy,” he said, moving into the hallway.
“Callie, come down,” he shouted toward the ceiling. “I know you’re in the attic and I’m not leaving until we talk.”
Silence. He returned his attention to the blushing Isabel, then crossed the hall to stare up the narrow stairway. “Callie, you’re being ridiculous.”
Silence. He rested a foot on the bottom step. “I can climb the confounded stairs, Cal.”
He heard the hiss of whispering voices, then the girl and boy came down, followed by Callie with the baby. She stopped at the bottom of the steps, ignoring Ethan and bouncing the little boy in her arms as if she was soothing him.
But the baby was already chortling. While Callie scowled.
Hoping to distract her, he gave the little boy a huge smile that prompted one in response. “Cute kid,” he said.
Callie’s eyes widened, then she glanced at the baby’s face and nodded.
Ethan sighed. He couldn’t talk to Callie if they spent the day admiring some baby.
“May I?” When he reached out to take the little boy, Callie held on tight.
“Aw, come on,” Ethan said, smiling at Isabel. “Would your boyfriend mind if I held the little tyke for a minute?”
“I doubt it.” Isabel shot a worried glance at Callie. “It’s okay,” she said, lifting her brows. “Ethan can hold the baby.”
Gray eyes turbulent, Callie handed the kid across.
Ethan talked softly to the baby as he crossed the room with Callie on his heels. He handed the little boy to Isabel, then whipped around and grabbed Callie’s wrist. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”
She yanked her arm free, then turned around and walked out the front door.
After Ethan had followed his furious, sputtering wife out to the porch, he realized that her thin cotton T-shirt would do little to protect her from the chill.
She’d always been absentminded about dressing for the weather. He’d always enjoyed taking care of her. “Don’t you have a jacket?” he asked.
“No.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Let’s make this quick. I’m freezing.”
He was tempted to offer her his shirt, even if that meant going bare-chested. Undressing in front of her might be a problem, though. If she looked at him in a certain way, he might wonder what she was thinking. Hell, he might hope she was thinking about sex. Seeing her in his shirt might not help, either. She’d worn his shirts after sex when they were together. Sometimes during sex.
He had to keep his mind on his goal—which was to tell her about the divorce.
He couldn’t do that yet.
He’d thought he could greet Callie and her sisters as if they were no more than old friends, but reality had reminded him of some complicated feelings—protectiveness, desire, affection.
Rather than callously dropping his news, he wanted to let her get used to seeing him again. Apparently, he could use a little adjustment time himself.
He would tell her, though. Very soon.
Right now, he wanted to find out why she’d insisted on coming here to Isabel’s house with him when she was so set on avoiding him. “What’s going on, Callie?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want me here at all, do you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She glared at him. “We shouldn’t be around each other at all. Not even to talk privately.”
“We’re still married, Cal. Why not talk?”
“We have a certificate. We’re not exactly married,” she said. “You walked out on me, remember?”
Okay, that was true. But they were still married. Their strange situation had entered his thoughts at odd times over the past two years, causing near panic. He wasn’t the type to leave things undone.
He didn’t want to have this conversation on Isabel’s front porch, but he could at least start them talking. “I walked out on a failing relationship.”
“There you go.”
Callie didn’t meet his eyes. Ethan stepped nearer and realized she was watching someone park a battered pickup behind the little white Mazda she was driving.
A redheaded man got out and walked up the drive. At first, Ethan had the blinding thought that the slightly plump man was Callie’s boyfriend, and the cause of her irrational behavior.
But then the guy said, “Hi, Callie. No one was home at Josie’s apartment. Did Isabel bring my kids here?”
“They’re in the house,” Callie said.
Aha! The redhead was Isabel’s boyfriend. Ethan wondered at his sense of relief. He still cared about Callie and always would, but he didn’t expect her to live the life of a hermit.
He didn’t intend to do that. He had LeeAnn, who had made her readiness for romance quite apparent. His marriage had failed. He should move on, and be happy for Callie.
“Wait there for one minute until I’m finished here, and I’ll go get the kids,” Callie hollered at the other man. Then she shot a glance at Ethan and added, “All of them.”
Man, she’d sounded bossy. Isabel’s friend stopped immediately and stood perusing the pile of junk at the end of the drive.
Callie returned her attention to Ethan, her eyes huge. “Okay, you win,” she said, speaking quickly. “I’ll meet you somewhere later and we can talk.”
“I could come in and help.”
“No. You have to go now.”
For whatever reason, she was rushing him off. Ethan liked the idea of meeting her later, though. He could use the time to think about how to approach the subject of divorce. That shouldn’t be hard after a two-year separation, but it was. Apparently, on both sides.
“Tonight at, say, ten o’clock, I’ll meet you at Mary’s Bar,” she said. “You know the place, out off Ohio Street?”
How could he forget it? Before they were married, he and Callie had spent hours making out in the bar’s back parking lot. “All right. Mary’s at ten.”
Callie paused and frowned as if she intended to say more, but then she just tugged on his sleeve. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?”
She started down the drive. “Walking to your car.”
He laughed. Did she expect her boyfriend to show up? Maybe she didn’t want to explain Ethan’s presence to her new love interest. Come to think of it, maybe the guy didn’t know she’d been married.
As much as the thought bothered him, Ethan knew he was probably right. A jealous boyfriend would explain her bizarre behavior. “All right, but you’d better show up,” he said as he opened his car door and sank inside. “I know where to find you if you don’t.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ethan was much happier to hear those words than he should have been.

Chapter Three
Callie stepped inside the door of Mary’s and allowed her senses to adjust. The sharp smell of cigarette smoke made her want to pinch her nose, and the crowded darkness invited trouble. The bar was small and shabby, but it fulfilled a purpose. Local citizens kept the business going because they preferred to drink and mingle without having to drive the extra few miles to a more upscale place.
Since she valued logic over social approval, Callie didn’t mind admitting that she preferred clean smells and daylight. She’d never frequented Mary’s or any other bar, but she’d wanted a good place to talk to Ethan tonight.
The crowd added safety, yet unless something happened, folks would be uninterested in her and Ethan’s conversation. Besides, she’d wanted to meet Ethan late, so she could leave Luke at Josie’s apartment without burdening her overworked sisters with his care. He’d been asleep for an hour already, and he’d likely sleep through until morning.
Ethan was here, somewhere. She’d seen his car in the lot. She scanned the space and located him sitting at a table just yards in front of her with his back to the door. Surrounded by four pretty women, he was entertaining them with an anecdote that must be enthralling.
The ladies were all pitched forward in their seats, eyes wide, heads nodding and lips pursed. Suddenly, all four women opened those pouty lips to gasp.
Callie swallowed a lump of jealousy. Ethan had always liked people. All people, not just women. He was probably passing the time, expecting her to be late, as usual. In any case, his behavior was none of her business.
Heavens, he looked good. The sight of his broad shoulders and muscled arms made her wish for things she shouldn’t. Ethan had made her feel sexy and soft, instead of just smart. No couple could have had a more romantic beginning. None. Just like the ladies at his table now, she’d brightened in his company.
She’d be tempted to repeat every trial of their marriage, just to relive one of those early days.
If that were possible, however, she’d be wishing Luke right out of her life.
She couldn’t do that. Luke was her life.
Her deep, crazy wishes hardly mattered, anyway. Ethan had made it clear that he was finished with her. He’d tired of her, just as her mother had predicted.
An outbreak of wild female giggles nearly brought tears to Callie’s eyes. She knew her envy didn’t make sense. She wasn’t supposed to care. She was supposed to be over him, vanishing into her separate life while he vanished into his.
Unfortunately, when it came to Ethan, Callie’s emotions often overtook her rational thoughts.
She’d have to be very careful.
She approached the table, stopping at Ethan’s side. “I’m here,” she said.
Ethan said goodbye to the ladies, then grabbed his bottle of beer and stood. “I couldn’t find an empty table a few minutes ago, but we can hunt for one together.”
They surveyed the area. Most of the crowd had gathered around the pool tables or the bar. All five tables in the larger room were occupied, but Ethan put a hand at Callie’s waist to guide her in that direction.
A single guy sat alone at a table, ogling a petite blonde waiting to order at the bar. Ethan approached, offering the guy a nod in greeting. “Pretty girl,” he said. “Interested?”
“Sure as taxes,” the man said.
Ethan handed him a bill. “I saw her eyeing you earlier. She’s receptive. Go offer to buy her a drink.”
“Wow. Thanks, man.”
“We’ll be taking your table, though.”
“No problem.”
Callie smiled as they sat down. Ethan was in a friendly mood. Maybe they could talk without getting into an argument. She’d always felt so out of control during their clashes, and she feared that she’d say something she’d forever regret.
Could she convince Ethan that he should simply vanish again, without discussing a divorce?
“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I’m sure they have something nonalcoholic.”
She eyed his bottle of beer. She’d never been much of a drinker, but at the moment she wanted something to steady her nerves. “I’d drink one of those.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
He raised his eyebrows, then got up and went to the bar. Soon, he returned with two open beers—a fresh one for himself and one for her.
She tipped the bottle to her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the first taste, then took a longer drink. The beer’s cold bitterness soothed her dry throat. After another drink, she set the bottle on the table and gazed at him. “It’s been nice to see you, Ethan. But after we talk tonight, you should go home and forget about me and my sisters.”
He scowled, but he didn’t say anything.
“Our relationship is over,” Callie added. “I can’t think of a single reason for us to spend time together.”
“You’re serious.”
“Absolutely.”
“You must have a jealous boyfriend.”
Callie stared at him. She hadn’t thought of lying about an involvement, but his presumption could be lucky. “Well, I have gone on with my life,” she said.
“Then I guess this is a good time to talk,” he said. “I’ve also been dating. The woman’s name is LeeAnn Chambers, and she works as a secretary and moonlights as a fiddle player for the River’s Bend music group. You heard of them?”
Oh, Lord. He had a girlfriend? Callie didn’t want to hear a name, and she most certainly didn’t want details. “No, I haven’t,” she said. She picked up her drink, realized her fingers were shaking and gripped the bottle more firmly. After another long swig, she glared at Ethan as he continued to talk about LeeAnn.
Plunking the drink on the table, Callie looped her hair behind her ears and fixed a stare past his head. Maybe an act of disinterest would make him stop rattling on about this woman.
He did stop.
And he grabbed Callie’s left hand. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring?” he asked, his expression incredulous.
Damn. She’d forgotten about the ring.
She wore it mostly for convenience. Whenever she took Luke out in public, people approached her to comment on her baby’s dimpled grin or thick hair or bright eyes. She wanted those folks to picture him with a perfect home life, with parents devoted to each other and to him.
The way she’d imagined her life with Ethan.
But part of her reason, too, was that she hadn’t found the heart to remove it. The impossibility of a reconciliation didn’t keep her from clinging to that old dream, as if it were a long-comatose loved one on life support.
She couldn’t tell Ethan any of this.
“I don’t think about it,” she said, shrugging. “But I’ve always thought it was pretty.”
“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind?”
Callie held Ethan’s gaze for an endless time. When the floor didn’t swallow her up, chair, beer and all, she decided she’d have to keep talking to him.
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Ethan tipped up his beer, finishing it, then said, “You don’t have a boyfriend at all, do you?”
She shrugged.
“You’re trying to evade men’s interest,” he said. “You’re using the ring as protection.”
He wasn’t too far off target, and his words hurt because he knew her so well.
He knew her so well, yet he’d left her.
“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said. “It’s my ring. Go away and let me live my life.”
Callie got up and wound her way through the crowd. As soon as she’d left the bar, she broke into a jog. She’d almost made it to the car when he caught her elbow.
“Let go of me, Ethan.”
He did, and she turned around. She hoped he’d attribute her flush to anger rather than humiliation. Women who were over their exes didn’t wear the man’s ring, did they? Her mother hadn’t worn her father’s. Here Callie was, the woman Ethan had left, wearing his wedding ring two years later. He’d suggested that she wore it to hide from other men, but he might also wonder if she was pining away for him. She could hardly explain that she wore it for their baby’s sake, damn it.
“I just want to know why,” he said. His attention traveled from her eyes to her mouth to her neck.
Her blush flowed downward, until she was hot everywhere.
“Why, Callie?”
Sweet heaven, she couldn’t think when he looked at her that way.
She didn’t want to think.
She had so much to lose if she got involved with him again. Why not kiss him one last time—really kiss him—while she had the chance?
She grabbed his T-shirt and tugged him nearer.
Before his chiseled lips touched hers, he parted them. He tasted sexy, like cold beer and hot, wild seduction. As his warm breath flowed into Callie’s mouth, the reminder of their lusty early days hit her, hard.
Her knees wobbled. Her breasts ached. Her womb opened.
She wanted nothing more than for Ethan to touch her, long and lovingly, everywhere she ached.
That could never happen again.
Still, she didn’t move away from him. The unaccustomed alcohol in her system had probably made her reckless. It also didn’t help that they were standing in the same parking lot where she’d first learned how to love a boy in every way. His hands settled low on her hips, and she leaned into him. She’d always loved it when he pulled her to him and flaunted his body’s need for her.
But this time, he propelled her backward.
His expression showed confusion, but Callie could still feel his passion down to her bones. She could still see it in the flash of his eyes and in his quick, deep breaths.
Man, she’d missed that look.
In the end, when they were battling over everything from laundry duties to where they should live, she’d stopped seeing any signs he wanted her. She’d thought his desire was gone forever.
It needed to be gone forever.
And Callie needed to think her way through this situation. Of course, their reunion reminded her of the good things. Ethan had made Callie feel beautiful, once.
He’d made her feel alive.
As much as she’d missed him—as much as it tore her heart out to let this man go again, even for a moment—she couldn’t forget the reason for the separation.
Leaving had been his choice. A thousand wishes hadn’t brought him home, and now Callie had a baby she couldn’t fathom losing.
A baby whose identity she couldn’t risk revealing.
Fisting her hands to keep them from trembling, Callie perched them against her hips and said, “What would your fiddle player think if she realized we still have that level of heat between us?”
He scowled.
“That’s why, Ethan. That’s why you have to go away and leave me alone.”
“I wanted to talk to you about unfinished business tonight, Callie. About our marriage. I didn’t intend to start anything else.” He shook his head. “Maybe we need a chaperone.”
She glanced around. They were alone out here, but someone might come or go at any time. “We aren’t going to discuss anything in Mary’s parking lot.”
“I didn’t plan to have the discussion out here.”
“You followed me out.”
His jaw tensed. “You get your way, don’t you, Cal?”
She didn’t think so. She might have maneuvered her way out of a conversation tonight—she hoped so—but she for damn sure hadn’t gotten her way.
She felt an almost frantic desire to keep Ethan near, but she couldn’t. Not if she wished to raise Luke in the way every child deserved—in one home, by the person who had nurtured him from his first second of life.
“Cal?”
She shrugged, pretending this wasn’t hell for her, too. “Guess so.”
He sighed. “I’m suddenly in no mood to talk tonight, but get it in your head that we will have this conversation very soon. Deal?”
She lifted her chin and didn’t answer.
Ethan looked at her for another few seconds. Then he finally strode across the parking lot. He got in his car, started it and drove away. Callie watched until he turned right onto the highway and traveled out of sight.
She stood in the same spot for a few minutes afterward, imagining that sweet, lost desire and something else she missed just as much: feeling safe enough to be honest with Ethan.
But losing him had taken a lot out of her. Sharing her days with their sweet baby kept her whole and peaceful. If she lost her little boy, she might become bitter.
She might become her mother.
For the life of her, she couldn’t take that risk.
A WEEK LATER, Ethan sipped his water and watched the breakfast crowd at Wichita’s Beacon Restaurant. After it had become apparent that his odd working hours and Lee-Ann’s weekend concert bookings weren’t always going to mesh, they’d taken to meeting here on the Saturday mornings he didn’t have to work. Since his west-Wichita house was nearer than LeeAnn’s east-side apartment, he generally got here first to grab a table.
LeeAnn was always right behind him, though. He’d only been there five minutes when she bustled through the door in her jeans and fancy boots, leaving behind a trail of perfume and admiring glances. That feminine confidence was the first thing that had attracted Ethan to her, with her well-toned body coming in a very close second. She worked hard to stay fit.
“It’s great to see you, Ethan.” She leaned down to press a kiss against his lips before settling in across from him. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Of course not.”
As she studied the menu, he studied her. Her beaded Western shirt and gold necklace showed off a great tan—another thing she maintained diligently. As usual, she appeared to be ready to rope the world and make it hers. “You’re lookin’ good this morning,” he said.
Glancing up, LeeAnn winked at him. “You are, too. You hungry? I can’t do a whole order of French toast, but it sounds good. Have half and order another entrée for yourself.”
Ethan considered her offer. Sometimes, they ate breakfast here and went their separate ways, meeting again in the evening when they were both free. Whenever they could manage it, they had a big breakfast and spent a long, leisurely day together. This morning, neither of those options sounded interesting.
Ethan’s mind kept returning to Callie. Seeing her had thrown him back in time. However, instead of recalling the turmoil that had finally ended their marriage, he’d kept remembering the good times. He’d forced himself to get through the week without driving out to Augusta to see her again.
He dragged his thoughts back to the pretty woman sitting across from him, awaiting an answer.
“Sorry, LeeAnn. I’m not up for this,” he said. “Do you mind if we just get coffee or juice? Tonight after your show, we can do anything you want.”
“Biscuits and gravy don’t sound good?” she asked, naming a Beacon specialty he normally found irresistible.
“Not really.”
After they’d ordered their drinks, LeeAnn leveled a gaze at him. “Still thinking about last Saturday?”
“Maybe,” he said. Since he prided himself on his honesty, he corrected himself immediately. “Yes.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her.”
“You’ve said that,” Ethan said. “I don’t know why it matters when I tell her. I will. I don’t want to just dump it on her.”
“You’ve said that,” LeeAnn said, winking again as the waitress brought their drinks.
“Any reason we should hurry?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Ethan. What do you think?”
Aha! LeeAnn was losing patience with him. Why didn’t he feel flattered at her eagerness to take the relationship to the next level? He’d thought he was ready, too.
From the beginning, he’d been honest with LeeAnn. He’d told her that he was still married, but that he’d reconcile with his wife when hell froze over. He still believed that to be the truth.
Callie owned a piece of his heart, but she’d been impossible to live with in the end.
He liked LeeAnn. She was outgoing, sophisticated and pretty in a vivid, brunette way. Basically, she was everything Callie wasn’t. But as Ethan watched her drink her glass of orange juice, he noticed the way she held it with a light touch and sipped slowly.
Why, all of a sudden, did he find it sexier for a woman to order what was possibly her first beer at the age of twenty-nine, hold on to it with a death grip and drink it so fast her eyes glazed over?
And why did Callie’s paler features remain in his thoughts as the ideal of feminine beauty?
She’d tied him in knots. Again.
“I think you should dispatch the papers to your wife and be done with it,” LeeAnn said. “She told you she didn’t want you around.”
Ethan smiled. He’d decide how to handle Callie. Maybe he should learn to be honest to LeeAnn without telling her every detail. “I appreciate the input,” he said, turning the conversation to other topics.
Twenty minutes later, he stood and tossed a couple of bills on the table. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.” LeeAnn led him from the restaurant with a sure stride. Anyone watching might think him lucky to be with her.
That was probably true. LeeAnn was terrific.
After walking her to her car, however, Ethan kissed her quickly and tried not to think of a more provocative parking lot kiss. “I’ll call you later,” he promised before he closed the car door between them.
In his car, Ethan sat for a minute, thinking. He hadn’t told LeeAnn, but he had the day off.
He had no, business heading to Augusta.
LeeAnn was right. Callie would no doubt be thrilled if she received divorce papers. She’d sign and return them, and she’d be through with him.
As he left the parking lot and headed east out of town, Ethan tried not to think about where he was going, or why. He just switched on the radio and drove. He wound up sitting in his car at Augusta’s city lake, staring at the shady clearing where he’d proposed to Callie.
He could picture the two of them, stocking the kitchen in their first Wichita apartment. They’d talked for hours about their plans. Careers in law enforcement and biomedical research. Three kids, because he’d been a lonely only and she enjoyed her sisters so much. Date nights on Saturdays and family time on Sunday afternoons.
He was a different person now.
But he was a good man, he reminded himself. This guilt was unwarranted. He hadn’t left Callie to pursue a life of debauchery. He’d left after she’d made it clear that she believed her mother’s tenets about men in general and about him in particular.
Damn it all, anyway.
Tomorrow, he’d pull those papers from his filing cabinet and send them to Josie’s address. Callie would receive them while she was within easy driving distance. If she had problems with anything, they could meet to talk.
And after the concert tonight, Ethan would take Lee-Ann out to celebrate a new start.
That decided, Ethan drove away from the lake with every intention of heading home. But he couldn’t resist driving by Isabel’s house one last time, just to see which cars were parked in front of it.
And when he saw the silver Toyota truck with a JO-Z vanity plate, he had to stop.
Callie’s youngest sister had been twelve when he’d met her. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been twenty-one and in her senior year of college. Rowdy and fun, Josie was the least complicated of the Blumes. Callie couldn’t blame him if he dropped by to say hello to Josie.
By the time he got to Isabel’s front door, he’d almost changed his mind. He knocked anyway, and his nerves about did him in until a stranger answered the door.
“If you’re here to help, come on in and find where you need to be,” the man said. “If you’re looking for the Blumes, they’re somewhere in the back of the house.”
“Thanks.” Ethan followed him into the living room, where the stranger and two other guys were installing new Sheetrock. On his way through the house, Ethan saw two more men ripping out the ruined kitchen flooring.
Isabel and Josie were removing old wallpaper from the top half of Izzy’s bedroom, presumably intending to match it to the newly replaced bottom half.
“Knock, knock,” he said. “I’m just stopping by to visit my favorite tomboy.”
“Ethan!” Josie set down the paintbrush she’d been using to apply a chemical stripper, then rushed across the room to throw her arms around his neck. After a warm hug that did much to feed Ethan’s courage, he backed up, smiling as he studied Callie’s youngest sister.
Just below average height, voluptuous Josie had very dark, very short hair. Isabel was a couple of inches taller, with lighter brown hair and an hourglass figure. And Callie was a blonde, of course, and just four inches shorter than his own six-two. Except for similar upturned noses and full lips, the Blume sisters were all very different in appearance.
Josie glanced at the peeling wallpaper with a grave expression. “The place looks awful, doesn’t it?”
“It’s much improved over past weekend,” Ethan said, gazing across at Isabel. “I can’t believe how fast your house is coming together.”

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