MATT STOOD in the kitchen door, waving goodbye. Or maybe he more like wavered in the kitchen door. Dylan, who’d known the man forever, didn’t think he’d ever seen such exhaustion in his face.
“Drop by late tomorrow if you want to see K.C. up close and personal,” Matt called.
“You go to bed,” Katy hollered back. “You look like death warmed over.”
“That good, huh?” One final wave. “Thanks for cooking breakfast.” He turned inside and shut the door.
Katy jumped into the pickup. “That’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” she said once Dylan was seated beside her. “What did you mean, telling that sweet child that we might get engaged?”
“We might.” He started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb.
“But it wouldn’t be a true engagement.”
“I know that and you know that. You want to explain it to Jessica, who’s already got us married and raising a family?” Katy groaned. “She’s the most inquisitive child.”
“You got that right.” He let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know about you but I’m kinda wiped out myself. I didn’t sleep all that great, wedged on that crummy plastic sofa.”
“Funny.” She gave him a slightly challenging glance. “I slept just fine.”
“That’s because you were sleeping on me, big old soft and cuddly me.”
That drew a laugh. “I’ve got news for you, Dylan Cole. You’re about as soft and cuddly as one of those longhorn steers you raise out at the Bear Claw.”
“You wouldn’t’a thought so, the way you were cuddled up and sawing logs last night.”
“I hope you’re not suggesting that I snored.” She gave him a scathing glance.
“Only when you’re sleeping.”
“Dylan!” She banged a fist against his shoulder, saw he was laughing at her and subsided. “I don’t know why I always let you get me like that,” she grumbled.
“Neither do I, Katy. Neither do I.” He pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. Sliding around on the seat, he faced her. “All kidding aside…”
Her expression turned suddenly serious. With a flash of intuition, he realized that she’d been keeping the more serious aspects of the night’s events at bay.
“Last night,” he said slowly, “was probably the greatest adventure of my life. I had no idea that the birth of a baby, especially when it’s not even your own, could be so powerful.”
“Powerful,” she repeated softly. “Yes, that’s what it was.”
“Sharing it with you was powerful, too. I don’t quite…understand what happened, but everything seems different today somehow.”
She licked her lips, looking nervous. “I know what you mean.”
“I think I’d better go away and figure it all out.”
“Okay. I mean, me, too.”
He smiled. “What’s this? An agreeable Katy Andrews? Will wonders never cease?”
He reached out to cup her cheek with his open palm. Slowly and deliberately, so that she could withdraw at any moment if she chose, he leaned forward until his mouth nearly touched hers. He stared straight into those beautiful green eyes.
“Thanks for being there,” he murmured.
“My pleasure,” she murmured back…and the green eyes closed with a slow fluttering of long silky lashes.
He kissed her then, the way he’d been wanting to kiss her since they’d got into it so hot and heavy at the ice cream parlor—was that only last night? She yielded to him in a way he hadn’t imagined she could. And then she was fully in his arms and one kiss became two and…
Someone was pounding on the window on the driver’s side. Biting off a swear word, Dylan dragged his head around and yelled, “What!”
Amanda Willy stood there, sunlight gleaming off her carefully arranged white hair. At Dylan’s response, she took a startled step back. Ashamed of himself, he rolled down the window. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Willy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” she shot back, “but Katy can.” She spoke past him. “When you missed our nine o’clock appointment I was afraid something might be wrong so I came looking for you.”
“Oh, gosh,” Katy groaned. “I forgot.”
“Obviously, and I can see why.” The old lady glared at Dylan. “If your grandmother could see you now, young man! What can you be thinking, bringing this girl home at ten in the morning?”
“I can explain,” Katy said quickly.
“Let him explain!” Amanda was obviously on a tear. “In my day, a gentleman had more care for a woman’s reputation.”
“Mrs. Willy,” Katy said desperately, “you don’t understand. I didn’t spend the night with Dylan—I mean I did, but—”
“Don’t go on!” The old lady looked horrified.
“We spent the night at the hospital!” Katy sounded desperate to be believed. “Matt and Laura Reynolds had their baby last night, a little girl. Dylan and I—”
“Oh, I’m sorry! Shame on me for jumping to conclusions.” Amanda looked horrified. “Dylan, dear boy, I should never have attacked you before the facts were in. But when I saw you grab this young woman…well, you understand.”
He understood, all right. He understood that Amanda saw right through him, whether Katy did or not. She might be a senior citizen but she obviously recognized lust when she saw it.
Katy and Dylan, Jessica and Zach welcomed baby K.C. home the next day. Matt escorted Laura up the walk to the front door, the baby nestled in her arms. The two kids could barely wait until their mother was ensconced on the family-room sofa to get a look at their new sister.
A smiling Laura laid the precious bundle on her thighs, the baby’s feet toward her body. Carefully she peeled away the light blanket.
The children let out a mutual sigh of delight.
Laura nodded. “She is beautiful, isn’t she!”
“No,” Zach said, “but she’s ours. Why’s she so red and stuff, Mama?”
“Because she’s so young.” Laura picked up the little boy’s hand and examined his fingernails. “Go wash those hands and you can touch her,” she invited.
“Me, too?” Jessica held out her hands for inspection.
Laura nodded. “Sit right here beside me and I’ll let you hold your baby sister.”
Katy turned away from the maternal scene. “Matt!” she exclaimed in a disapproving whisper. “Is that a good idea? I mean, letting the kids handle her?”
“Laura knows what she’s doing.” He looked like a different man from the one they’d left here the previous day.
“I sure hope so.” Katy could barely stand to watch. K.C. looked so fragile, so vulnerable. Katy’s hands itched to touch that baby skin, caress the dark down on the little one’s head. But she’d never been around such a tiny baby before and it scared her.
Not Jessica, though. “Look at me!” she crowed, holding K.C. carefully in the crook of her arm while her mother hovered beside her. “I think she likes me!”
K.C. was making faces, and little mewling noises, but Katy wasn’t sure any of them indicated affection.
Zach rushed up, hands still damp. Laura took his little finger and guided it against the tiny palm. K.C.’s fingers convulsed and she hung on.
Zach’s eyes filled with wonder. “She likes me,” he said.
“Everybody likes you, sport.” Matt patted the boy’s shoulder.
Laura looked up with shining eyes. “Katy, would you like to hold your namesake?”
“Me?” Katy took two quick steps backward. “Uh…maybe later. I mean, of course I do, when she’s older. Right now you’re all having so much fun I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Laura grinned at Dylan. “What that translates to is, ‘I’m scared to death to touch that baby!”’
He grinned back. “I caught the translation.”
“How about you? Do you want to hold her? Great big tough guy like you—show the little lady how it’s done.” Laura winked and took the baby from Jessica.
Dylan figured he must have turned a half-dozen shades paler in his panic. But Katy was watching him with jaundiced eye, and so were the kids, who hadn’t been at all terrorized by a chunk of baby weighing less than a ten-pound sack of sugar.
He swallowed hard. “Okay, what do I do?”
Matt took K.C. from Laura. “Hold out your arms.”
It took a lot of guts for Dylan to do as told. Matt placed K.C. in that cradle.
“Just remember,” the daddy warned, “you’ve got to support her head. Other than that—hey, just think of her as some little dogie you picked up out on the range.”
The comparison of this tiny bundle with a little lost calf tickled Dylan and made the transition a bit easier. “Then all I gotta do is swing her up over my saddle and carry her home to a nice warm stall and a bottle of milk,” he said. The soft weight was like a feather in his embrace. K.C. was still making faces, her tiny mouth moving insistently and her eyes pressed into a tight line.
He knew what that meant. “I think she’s hungry,” he said, speaking low so as not to startle her.
“Don’t worry,” Laura advised. “When she wants to eat, she’ll let us know in no uncertain terms.”
He grinned. “Good lungs, huh.” He glanced at Katy, who simply stood there staring as if she’d never seen a baby before. “Come on over and have a good look,” he said, his tone bragging; after all, he was in charge here.
Katy edged closer. “She really is beautiful,” she told the proud parents. Reaching out, she touched the wrinkled little hands with one gentle finger. K.C. turned blindly, mouth screwing up. Katy caressed the baby’s cheek. “Her skin’s so soft! I’ve never felt anything so soft.”
Katy’s green eyes glowed and her pink mouth trembled. If Dylan hadn’t had his hands full, he’d probably have grabbed her.
A protesting squeak issued from the baby’s lips.
“Uh-oh.” Laura stood cautiously. “I think she’s about to lose patience with us.”
Squeaks turned into little bleats that made Jessica smile. “When’s she gonna learn how to talk?” she wanted to know. “When’s she gonna learn how to play Barbies? When’s she gonna learn to walk?”
“Not for a couple of days at the earliest,” her father teased. “Come on, let’s help Mom get settled into bed so she can feed K.C. before she gets really worked up.” He took the baby from Dylan, who resisted the urge to hang onto her. “You two are welcome to stay, but this may take a while. Then I think Laura needs to get some rest.”
“I am a little worn-out,” Laura admitted. “But I want to thank you both so much for coming. Please come again, any time you want to.”
“We’ll do that, but now I think it’s time we were leaving.” Katy glanced at Dylan and he nodded agreement. “Is there anything we can do for you before we go? Anything at all?”
“Can’t think of a thing.”
“Then we’ll see you soon.”
Katy led the way out the front door, halting on the porch. She turned on Dylan so unexpectedly that he took a step back.
“Come to my house for dinner tomorrow night,” she said.
What was she up to now? “Why?” he asked, suspicious.
“I—” She stopped, drew in a deep breath, pursed her lips and then the words spilled out, “—want to find out who you are and what you did with the Dylan I’ve known all my life.”
“Cute,” he said. “What’s it mean?”
“It means,” she said, punching up the word, “that I’ve actually been…kind of almost liking you the last couple of days.”
“Restrain your enthusiasm, if you can,” he suggested dryly.
She turned red. He enjoyed it.
“Dylan, it’s hard enough to admit I don’t detest you at this particular moment. Don’t rub it in, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So you’ll be there?”
“I dunno. I’ve been in town more than I’ve been at the ranch the last couple of days. My cows are gonna think I died and everybody forgot to tell ’em.”
“That’s why you hire a passel of ornery cowboys,” she pointed out sweetly. “Yes or no, it’s all the same to me.”
He grimaced. “There you go again, boosting my self esteem.” He hopped down off the porch. “Sure, I’ll be there. Make it worth my time by going to lots of trouble. And in case you don’t know, I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”
“Ohh, Dylan Cole!” She clenched her fists and glared at him. “You make me so mad I could sock you and then…” all the starch flowed out of her. “And then,” she said, “I see you holding a baby as if it were the most precious thing on earth and I think…I wonder…if there might be hope for you yet.”
He shrugged, keeping his face carefully impassive. Walking to his pickup, he drove away…not because her words meant nothing to him but because they meant too much.
By the time Dylan knocked on her door the following evening, Katy was a nervous wreck. How could she deal with Dylan as if he were just anyone? Their history was too long, their differences too deep. Why was she doing this to herself? It would never work and she knew it.
But she had to try, she bolstered her flagging spirits. She would be nice to him! She wouldn’t jump on every word he said, wouldn’t try to keep one up on him, wouldn’t look for hidden and dastardly meaning behind every word.
She would be just as nice and girly as she knew how to be. And she’d start by cooking meat and potatoes, even though that was bor-ing.
She opened her kitchen door with a smile on her face. Dylan stood there, grinning expectantly and holding out a handful of drooping wildflowers.
Hot words jumped to her lips: Don’t you know you shouldn’t pick wildflowers? Think about the ecology! If you wanted to bring flowers, that’s what florists are for— Blah, blah, blah!
She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “For me?” She took the flowers, then stepped aside and gestured to him to enter.
He frowned. “You like the flowers, do you?”
“Of course.” Waltzing to a cabinet, she extracted a vase and put the poor little things in water. The thing about wildflowers was, they lasted for such a short time once picked.
And yet, they were pretty—white and blue and orange.
She turned to him with a smile. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Sure. What you got?”
“Soft drinks, beer, wine.”
“Beer,” he said.
Where was the man’s class? Where was his imagination?
She retrieved a beer from the depths of the refrigerator and poured it into a pilsner glass. When she offered it to him, he frowned.
“You’re gettin’ kinda fancy,” he said, holding it as if he expected it to shatter in his hands.
“You are company,” she countered lightly.
“Since when?”
“Since—” Too emphatic. She started over. “Since we agreed to spend time together. Work with me here, Dylan. I’m trying to find out if I can treat you the way I’d treat any…” She cast about for the proper word.
“Potential boyfriend?” he supplied.
She wanted to groan but didn’t. “That’s right,” she said firmly. “I mean, do we bicker all the time simply out of habit? Could we treat each other with courtesy and respect if we tried?”
“I dunno,” he said doubtfully. “Sounds kinda boring to me.”
“Will you try?” Her resolve was already slipping. She had to calm down and stay calmed down, but when she was around him, her temper always seemed to soar.
“Do I have to?”
She refused to fall for his plaintive appeal. “I would appreciate it,” she said with dignity.
“Okay, I suppose I can try.” He hauled out a kitchen chair.
“Don’t sit there!”
He leaped back. “Is it booby trapped?” He looked almost hopeful.
“Of course not. I just don’t want to entertain you in the kitchen.”
“Why not? I like kitchens. And I don’t like being entertained, as you put it.”
“Dylan, will you let me do this my way?” She faced him with hands on hips.
He rolled his eyes and said again, “Do I have to?”
She took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then she said, “Yes,” very sweetly.
His sigh sounded resigned. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go into the living room and sit down. I’ll bring in the hors d’oeuvres.”
“You are getting fancy. Okay, it’s your party.”
She certainly hoped so, she told herself as she retrieved the tiny rolled sandwiches and shrimp spread from the refrigerator. She was going to be nice to Dylan tonight if it killed both of them.
Maybe then she’d know whether the feelings she’d been fighting to suppress were the real thing or just a figment of her imagination.
If there was anything Dylan hated, it was eating fancy food and drinking out of fancy glasses. But Katy seemed so intent upon what ever she was trying to prove that he did his best to go along with her.
“Would you care for another shrimp canapé?” she asked, offering the tray.
“Thirty is about my limit,” he declined. Darned things tasted like fish glue but the new and nice Katy might take offense at such a comment.
She smiled; she looked bored.
He couldn’t blame her. He was pretty damned bored himself with all this sweetness and light.
She settled back in her chair. “You were saying that the cattle are in good shape for the winter,” she reminded him.
“Oh, yeah, the cattle.” He sipped daintily at his beer, treating it as if it were wine in the tall flared glass. “Good thing, too. Judging by the fur on the critters I’m seeing, we’re in for a long and early winter.”
“But the weather’s beautiful now,” she protested politely. “A true Indian summer.”
“What you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?”
A spark leaped in those eyes and was quickly extinguished. “I’ll withhold judgment,” she said.
He set his glass down with more force than necessary. “Since when? Katy, this new you—” An aroma of burning meat wafted past and he frowned.
“What is it?” she asked, still cool and contained.
“Were you planning to serve roast beef for dinner?”
“I’m still planning on it.”
“I hope you’ve got a plan B because unless I’m mistaken, that roast is going up in smoke even as we speak.”
Her smile was smug. “What in the world are you talking about? I’m using a method that never fails. I sear the meat under high heat and then I turn down the temperature and—” She stopped short and a look of total panic came across her face. She took a tentative sniff and jumped to her feet. “Oh, my goodness! What have I done?”
He followed her into the kitchen, glad that at least she’d dropped all that phony placidity. It didn’t suit her at all.
The kitchen was free of smoke—until she opened the oven. Then enough smoke poured out to set them both to coughing.
Katy grabbed the roasting pan with oven mitts and set it on top of the stove, then snatched up a towel and started fanning the smoke toward the open back door. He joined in and soon the air was breathable again.
Dylan, who’d kind of enjoyed the excitement, turned back to find Katy slumped in a chair at the small kitchen table. She stared at the lump of charcoal in the roasting pan with disbelief on her face.
She looked at him. “I can’t believe this is happening!”
“Yeah, well…” He leaned down to peer at the oven dial. “My guess is that 500 degrees probably is too hot for any extended period of time.”
“Five hundred!” She leaned forward to see for herself. “But I swear I turned it back to three-fifty.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t happen to mess with my dial, did you?”
“Get outa here!” He looked at her incredulously. “I may be a low-life and all, but I rarely burn my own dinner on purpose.”
“Okay, I apologize for that one. I know I…was a little distracted. Maybe I did just screw up.”
“Hey,” he said lightly, “it happens to everyone. I screwed up myself once, back about 1997.”
She didn’t laugh as he’d intended. Instead, tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “I wanted this to be perfect,” she blurted. “I wanted to see if we could have a nice dinner and act like normal human beings just once in our lives.” She turned her head away. “I see now that we can’t.”
“Normality is greatly overrated.” He took her by the elbows and lifted her to her feet.
“Maybe so, but it’s normal to feed someone when you invite them to dinner.”
“To hell with dinner. We can go out to eat or we can have a bowl of cereal—I don’t care. I didn’t come for the food.”
She grew very still. “Then why did you come?”
“Because you asked me, or rather, told me to. Because I seem to be spending a lot of time trying to please you these days.”
“Please me?” She looked thoroughly confused. “But all you do is argue and annoy me.”
“Yeah. Fun, isn’t it?”
“No!” She threw out stiff arms, shaking away his light hold. “We act like a couple of kids when we’re around each other.”
“You could be right about that. Kids spend a lot of time trying to figure out what it is they’re feeling, besides lust, of course. Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do tonight?”
“Not exactly…well, maybe sort of.” She was breathing lightly, through slightly parted lips that looked soft as velvet. “But it didn’t work.”
“Because it was phony.” He settled his hands at her waist. “All that nicey-nice stuff isn’t you, Katy.”
“Yes, it is! I can be nice—I am nice, around anyone but you. You bring out the worst in me, Dylan.”
“You bring out the best in me.”
“If that’s the best—” She stopped, biting her lip. “See,” she gave him an accusing look, “you made me say that.”
“I encouraged you. I didn’t make you.” He gave a little yank and she stumbled into him, her hips flat against his, green eyes going wide.
“You…make me…crazy,” she murmured. “I don’t like feeling crazy.”
“Do you like feeling this?” He slid his hands up her sides until his thumbs nestled beneath the curve of her breasts. At the same time, he slipped one knee between her legs, which tightened around him almost imperceptibly.
“No,” she said, and the word was little more than an expulsion of breath. “This isn’t right. Not with you, Dylan.”
He nuzzled her temple. “Why not? We’re practically engaged.”
“That…was a bad idea.”
“Kiss me and then say that.”
“If I kiss you…if I kiss you—oh, hell!”
Sliding her arms around his neck, she yanked his head down and planted her lips on his. He wanted to whoop and holler, it felt so good to have her take the initiative. Her mouth was sweet as nectar, her body pliable and seductive. He was already thinking thoughts of bedrooms and deserts when the telephone shrilled.
He didn’t release her. “Don’t answer it,” he urged, nibbling at her ear.
“I’ve got to.” Breathing hard, she managed to shove his hands aside and stagger to the telephone on the wall near the door. Her “Hello?” was barely audible.
Suddenly she straightened and shot a look over her shoulder at Dylan, who lounged against the table and tried to get control of himself. Every time he touched her, his composure slipped a little further, a little faster.
“Yes,” she said in the phone. Her eyes widened. “Next weekend?” She swallowed hard. “Yes, I know when my birthday is but when you didn’t mention it again, I thought maybe you’d forgotten…uh-huh. Uh-huh. All right, Grandma, I’ll see all of you a week from today.”
So the whole family was about to descend upon her for a birthday party. Tough on her, he supposed.
He tried to take her in his arms again.
“What are you doing?” She batted his hands away.
He frowned, thinking it should have been obvious. “Picking up where we left off.”
“No way!” Turning her back, she walked to the sink, then faced him defiantly. “Practically my entire family will be here next weekend.”
“Sure, I remember. For your birthday party.” He followed her, slipping his hands around her waist.
She stepped aside. “Don’t do that! I can’t think when you do that.”
“Okay, why don’t we clear both our minds and then we can talk.” Bending, he scooped her up in his arms.
For a moment she hung there with astonishment written all over her face. Then she stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Moving this into the bedroom.” He grinned. “That’s where we were heading.”
“Are you crazy? Put me down this instant!”
She wasn’t kidding. He stood her on her feet and backed away. “What the hell’s your problem, Katy? That’s where this was heading and you damned well know it.”
“I know no such thing!”
“Don’t lie to either one of us. If that phone hadn’t rung, we’d be—”
“We would not!” She shoved tousled hair out of her face.
“Sure, we would. That’s why you invited me here tonight, because—”
“No! Stop it, Dylan.” She turned her back to him and her words became muffled. “This isn’t working.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and felt her tremble. “What isn’t?”
“This stupid arrangement we made. It was all right until—”
“Until what?” He brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Until K.C. Being a part of that…sharing it…has made everything different.”
“Different better.”
“Different worse!” She whirled away from him. “I can’t go on with this, not even for Grandma.”
He was beginning to get the drift of her intentions, despite efforts not to. “Spell it out,” he grated.
She took a deep breath. “Our deal’s off,” she said. “No more dates, no more pretending. You’ll have to find another way to keep all your admirers off your back.”
Aching all over, he gave her a glacial stare. “Then you’ll have to find some other way to keep your grandmother from kicking off when she finds out you have no intentions of giving her what she wants—a grandson-in-law and great-grandkids.”
“That’s cold,” she accused.
“ Saying it is cold? Not near as cold as doing it.”
For a full minute, they glared at each other. Then Dylan drew a disgusted breath. “That’s it, then.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“In that case, I may as well go home to my cows and stay there.”
Turning, he strode out of her kitchen—and her life, he devoutly hoped.