Daddy Wore Spurs (Mills & Boon Cherish) (Men of the West, Book 32) (3 page)

Listening to Mariah now, it sounded as though Aimee had been a troubled soul long before he’d met her. Yet he hadn’t glimpsed that side of her. All he’d seen was her laughter and smiles. The realization proved that he’d misjudged her badly. Did that mean any woman could fool him? Even this one?

“I suppose you’re thinking I’m partly to blame for your problems,” he said ruefully.

“I can’t blame you for the choices Aimee made. And anyway, you might not be the man who got Aimee pregnant.”

So she was going to hold on to that notion, he thought grimly. Well, he supposed she had that right. Just as much as he had the right to believe Harry was his son.

The thought had him looking down at the boy in his arms. The child was so tiny and vulnerable, so precious. He wanted to hold the sleeping baby’s face next to his own, to breathe in his sweet scent and let the wonder of being a father settle deep inside him. He might have been gullible with Aimee, but he wasn’t about to let Mariah dupe him. Especially when it came to Harry’s parentage.

But what if Harry’s DNA doesn’t match yours, Finn? You’ll have no argument to keep the boy. Maybe you ought to ask yourself if you’re playing a fool’s game.

Silently cursing the voice of warning in his head, he looked up to see Mariah’s attention fixed on a nearby window. As he studied her pensive profile, he wondered if there was a special man in her life. Even though she wasn’t married, there was still the possibility she had a boyfriend or fiancé. For all he knew, she might even have ideas of marrying and keeping Harry as her child.

Crazy or not, the mere idea of losing the baby in his arms left him cold inside. It changed the whole landscape of the future he’d been mentally painting for himself and his son. Harry gave him a purpose that he’d never had before, and he liked it.

“I believe I am that man,” Finn said. “Aimee put my name on Harry’s birth certificate. She did that for some reason. I only wish she’d contacted me. I could’ve helped—before things here on the ranch started falling apart.”

She glanced at him, her expression wry. “We needed help all right. About a month before her accident, we were forced to sell off part of the horses just to keep the bills paid. Seeing them go opened Aimee’s eyes somewhat. But it was already too late.”

Finn frowned with confusion. “If money was that tight, how did she get the money to go on a skiing holiday?”

“Two of Aimee’s girlfriends paid for the trip. They were hoping a break from the baby and the ranch would help her get her head on straight. Now they blame themselves for her death.”

“Do you blame them?”

Frowning, she looked at him. “No. Accidents can happen anywhere.”

“You’ve never told me exactly how Aimee died. Do you believe it truly was an accident?”

The widening of her eyes told Finn his question had surprised her.

“Why, yes, I do. Her friends said that one minute they were all headed down the slope together and everything was fine. Then a steep embankment appeared several yards on down the path. One of the friends managed to swerve around it, but Aimee and the other girl chose to ski over it. Both of them ramped the ledge and fell on the other side. There was soft powder on the ground that day, but something about the twisted way she landed severed Aimee’s spinal cord.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But after all you’ve said about Aimee it got me to wondering if maybe she was depressed or wasn’t herself and—well, that she was deliberately being reckless.”

Her brows pulled together in a scowl. “I’d be the first to admit that Aimee liked to live on the edge. Most normal folks would be terrified to climb on a horse that had bucking on its mind. But my sister relished the challenge and excitement. Still, as for that day on the ski slope, no, I believe it was an accident. Nothing more.”

Finn was thankful for that much, at least. He hated thinking the responsibility of mothering Harry and the weight of the floundering ranch had pushed Aimee to the point where she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died.

Still, the facts of Aimee’s accident didn’t change what was happening to Mariah now. She was on the verge of losing everything, he thought bleakly. How was she going to pick herself up and start a new life without her home? Without Harry?

Shoving the troubling questions aside, he said, “Aimee’s death. Harry being born. There’s some reason it all happened. And no matter the circumstances of how he was brought into the world, just holding this little guy in my arms makes me feel like a blessed man.”

She said nothing to that. Instead, she stared at him, her gaze frozen on his face. While Finn waited for her to say anything, silence stretched between them like a taut highline.

After several more moments passed without a response, he finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

She jumped to her feet and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice choked. “Please excuse me.”

Before Finn could react, she was rushing toward the arched doorway and as he watched her retreating back, he knew there were already tears on her face.

Damn it! Now what?

With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and carried the sleeping baby out of the kitchen and back to the nursery.

As soon as he walked into the room, he spotted Mariah standing by a window near the crib, gazing out at the rugged landscape in the distance. Was she thinking about leaving this ranch? No doubt everything about the place reminded her of her father and sister. Or was it the fear of losing Harry that had caused her to break down in tears?

Finn placed the baby in the crib and covered him with a light blanket. It wasn’t until he straightened from the task that he noticed Mariah was looking over her shoulder at him. Thankfully, there were no tears on her face, but Finn didn’t miss the redness of her eyes. The sight hit him far harder than it should have.

“I’m sorry for rushing away like that, Finn,” she said huskily. “Everything suddenly piled up on me.”

He moved from the side of the crib and went to stand next to her. “I hardly need an apology,” he told her. “But it would be nice to see a smile on your face.”

Turning slightly, she cast him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in a smiling mood,” she admitted. “Harry is on my mind. I’m thinking this ranch should eventually be handed down to him. It should remain his home. But sooner rather than later it’s going to belong to someone else. And if it turns out you’re his father, then none of that will matter anyway. You’ll be wanting him to live with you.”

“That’s my plan. If Harry is my son, then he’s going home with me. The child belongs with his father.”

Her mouth fell open, snapped shut, and opened again. “I can’t let that happen, Finn.”

A cool chill rushed through him. “Excuse me, but if DNA proves Harry is mine, then I have every right to take him.”

Her expression bleak, she turned her back to him. “Okay, I’ll admit that as his father you’d have the right. But that’s not all there is to it,” she said in a low tone. “I mean, Harry is used to me. I’ve been his mother since...well, practically since he was born. To pull him away from me would be traumatic for both of us. Besides, I don’t know anything about you. I wouldn’t be much of an aunt if I simply turned him over to you without learning who you are.”

Finn’s first instinct was to remind Mariah that he’d already been robbed of the first few months of his son’s life because her sister had deliberately left him in the dark. But now was not the time to get into a bitter battle with her, he decided. It wouldn’t help his cause to have her thinking he was a hothead who had no business dealing with a baby. She’d learn soon enough that he was Harry’s father and that he wasn’t about to allow her, or anyone, to come between him and his son.

Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to remain cool and collected. “I have all kinds of identification with me. And if you’d like to call and speak with someone about me or my family, I can give you plenty of character references.”

* * *

Biting down on her lip, Mariah closed her eyes and tried to calm the churning fear inside her. What could she say? How could she make this man understand that Harry was all she had left in the world? He was her little boy. If Finn Calhoun took him away from her, she didn’t think she could bear the pain.

If the test revealed he was Harry’s daddy, there’d be no way she could prevent him from taking custody of her baby—unless he was unfit to be a parent, and he hardly looked that. This hunky cowboy looked like a man who was in complete control of himself and everything around him.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, she turned back to him and was immediately struck again by his huge presence. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Finn that set him apart from the other cowboys who’d worked on Stallion Canyon. He had enough confidence for two men and the looks to go with it. But that wasn’t exactly the reason her gaze kept returning to him. There was something about his blue eyes and the hard curve of his lips that invited her to draw near him. And that could prove to be dangerous.

With her mouth feeling as though she’d eaten a bowl of desert sand, she said, “I don’t need a bunch of your friends mouthing your superlative qualities to me. I need to see for myself what sort of man you are.”

His rusty brown brows pulled together in a frown while his keen gaze rambled lazily over her face, and Mariah suddenly wished she’d dressed that morning in a shirt that buttoned tightly at her throat and wrists. At least then she might not be feeling so downright naked.

After a long, pregnant pause, he said, “Most folks consider me a respectable, hardworking man. How do folks around here feel about you?”

For a moment she was taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting him to turn the tables on her. “I have a few friends,” she said. “And the school where I teach wants me back next year. Does that tell you anything about my reputation?”

A corner of his lips curved slightly upward and Mariah found she couldn’t tear her eyes from the provocative image. How many women, besides Aimee, had felt the pleasure of those hard lips on hers? she wondered. Was he the kind of man that frequently pursued women in general, or did one in particular have to catch his attention before he went after her?

His low chuckle caressed her senses, and longing suddenly pierced the empty spots inside her. How nice it would be to hear his laugh each and every day, to be able to laugh with him. To feel his hands touching her, protecting her, loving her.

“You said you wanted to get to know me. Could be that I’d like to know more about you, too. Do you have a boyfriend? Or fiancé?”

Rattled even more by his questions, she moved around him and returned to the side of Harry’s crib. He’d laid the baby on his back and tucked a lightweight blue blanket around him. The idea of the tall, tough cowboy caring so gently for the baby caused her eyes to mist over once again.

“No boyfriend. And definitely not a fiancé.”

“And why is that? You don’t want to be married?”

She made an indifferent shrug, even though a tangle of emotions was suddenly choking her. “I’m waiting for the right man to come along,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t about to add any more to her explanation. She hardly wanted him, or anyone else for that matter, to know that she’d never gotten over losing the only man she’d ever cared about to another woman. And considering the woman had been her sister, Mariah wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the betrayal.

Slowly, she sensed his presence moving alongside her, and then the faint scent of him drifted to her nostrils. He smelled like a man who’d been bathed in desert wind and kissed by hot sunshine, and for one brief moment she wondered what it would be like to press her nose against his throat, to breathe in that evocative scent. To let herself forget that he’d once been Aimee’s lover.

He said, “You must be waiting for Mr. Perfect.”

The huskiness of his voice was such a sensual sound it caused goose bumps to form on the backs of her arms.

“That’s none of your business,” she said.

“Probably not. But I’m a curious kind of guy. I’ve been trying to figure out how a woman who looks like you is living out here alone—without a man to care for her. Protect her.”

And make love to her
. Mariah could hear the unspoken words in his voice as clearly as she could hear Harry’s soft breathing behind them.

The fragile grip she had on her senses was coming close to snapping. “Aimee was always the one who wanted a man in her life. Not me.”

“That could change—if you met a man you couldn’t live without.”

Everything inside Mariah had quickly gone hot and shaky. And she wondered wildly how he would react if she suddenly turned and placed her palms against his chest. If she were to tilt her face up to his, would he want to kiss her? Oh my. Oh my. Why were these crazy, wicked thoughts going through her head? Why was he making her forget that she was a practical woman?

“I’m just trying to survive, Finn. I’m not foolish enough to believe a knight will come riding through here on a big white horse and make all my troubles go away.”

A wry grin tugged at his lips. “He might come riding through here on a big brown mustang. Ever think that might happen?”

Her laugh was short and caustic. “If that ever happened I’d run him off with a loaded shotgun. Once these last ten are gone, I never want to see another mustang. If it hadn’t been for the wild horses I might have persuaded Aimee to get out of the business before we went broke. But she was obsessed with the damned things. And now—”

As her words trailed away, his hand wrapped gently around her upper arm, and the touch splintered her resolve to remain indifferent to him. Heat from his fingers was rushing to her cheeks, then plunging downward, showering her whole body with sparks.

“You’re blaming the wrong thing for your troubles, Mariah. At one point, those horses were running free, caring for themselves. They didn’t ask to be captured and confined.”

Mariah’s chin dropped against her chest. She sounded like a pouting child, blaming her problems on everything and everyone but herself. But grief, worry, anger and resentment had been playing with her emotions for so long now. And for just as long, she’d been trying to hide her emotions, to pretend that she was strong and unaffected. And now something about Finn was pulling her feelings right out in the open.