A Pregnancy And A Proposal. Mindy Neff

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      “Conf—” His expression incredulous, he didn’t seem able to finish the word.

      And Darcie didn’t seem able to think—an odd occurrence given that she was normally a sharp, witty woman. Her cheeks felt overheated and her heart pounded as though someone had injected her with an ampoule of adrenaline.

      Oh, no. She recognized this feeling. It had been happening to her with some regularity in the past four months and it meant that she was very close to experiencing one of those weird spells.

      And the very last thing she wanted to do was crumple into a heap at Flynn O’Grady’s feet.

      Whirling, she made a beeline for the rest room.

      Flynn watched as Darcie Moretti disappeared through an inner sanctuary where men normally didn’t trod. It took him a full moment to realize that she’d bailed on him. Again!

      This wasn’t acceptable. The clock was ticking. His daughter was in the process of running away to God only knew where.

      And the woman who held the answers had apparently thought to escape him by hiding out in the ladies’ rest room.

      Well, by damn, she’d underestimated him. He was a man on a thin string. A harried father. No gender sign on a pressboard swinging door would stop him.

      Hitching Mary Beth higher on his hip, he slammed his hand against the door and pushed it open. From behind him, he heard approving noises from The Daddy Club guys, and an indrawn breath or two from the older patrons watching from the designer coffee bar in the back of the hardware store.

      He ignored it all, allowed the door to swing closed behind him, sealing them away from prying eyes and ears. He focused his attention on the startled, freckle-faced woman staring at him with her back up against the salmon tiled vanity, her dripping wet fingers fiddling with the shiny black buttons on her baggy coat.

      Frowning, he noticed that her pale face was also wet. “Are you okay?”

      “Fine.”

      Her tone wasn’t all that convincing but he let it go. “Look, Darcie, if you’ve got information about my daughter, I expect you to give it over.” It was tough to look menacing and serious with mushy animal crackers decorating his shirt, a squirming baby on his hip and a pink cloth diaper bag slung over his shoulder.

      But he gave it a good shot, despite the fact that desperation was climbing and his imagination of what could happen to his daughter was vivid and ugly, sending him into near panic.

      One of Darcie’s golden brows arched and her hazel eyes took on a look of censure. She reached for a paper towel and dried her face and hands. “Do you threaten your daughter like that?”

      “I’m not threatening—” Appalled, offended, he broke off, tried to gather his wits. Was it the situation or the woman who had him so scattered, so close to the boiling point? It annoyed him that she’d left him, asleep and naked, five months ago. And it annoyed him that she’d just popped up in his life again. All that annoyance was getting tangled up in his panic over Heather. “No, I do not threaten my daughter!”

      The baby winced, blinked. Her lip trembled.

      “Now look what you’ve done,” Darcie said. She reached out and plucked Mary Beth out of his arms.

      “Wait just a—”

      “Hush.”

      Flynn didn’t know if she’d meant the baby or him, but he was surprised enough to obey. He didn’t normally hand his kid over to just anybody. Actually, he hadn’t really handed her, Darcie had taken her and he hadn’t put up a fight.

      He nearly groaned. What kind of a father was he? He couldn’t even hold on to his baby daughter. Could just any old stranger pluck his baby out of his arms?

      And what about Heather? She was lost. He’d lost her.

      How had that happened? Why hadn’t he known she was that unhappy?

      He should have seen it—especially tonight. He’d asked her to baby-sit Mary Beth so he could come to this Daddy Club meeting, but she’d thrown a hissy fit. Frustrated, he’d snatched up Mary Beth and stormed out of the house.

      Oh, man. He was such an idiot.

      “Hey, it’ll be all right.”

      He felt Darcie’s hand on his arm, met her compassionate eyes, noticed that the color had come back into her cheeks.

      Mary Beth was happily twisting messy fingers in Darcie’s curly hair, dislodging several unruly strands from its sexy updo. Darcie didn’t seem to notice or to mind. And for some confounded reason, that touched him.

      “I’m at a disadvantage here. You seem to have all the answers—about my daughter…and about where you’ve been for the past five months, why you left…”

      His words trailed off, inviting her to pick up the conversational ball. He knew the timing of personal questions was inappropriate, but he felt like an ostrich looking for a hole in the sand to bury his head. Maybe if he stalled long enough, somebody would burst through the door and tell him it was all a mistake, that his daughter was home, safe and sound and happy, and that he wasn’t failing miserably at just about everything he did lately.

      “I don’t have all the answers, Flynn.” She shifted the baby so that Mary Beth’s diaper-clad bottom was perched on the shelf of her arm. The baby laid her head on Darcie’s shoulder, and something in Flynn’s chest tightened. It didn’t make sense, but just that simple move made him feel inadequate. That was an emotion he was becoming increasingly familiar with these days.

      “As for me,” she said. “I haven’t been hiding.”

      “I thought you lived in Philly.”

      “Did I say that?”

      “No. You didn’t say much of anything.”

      “You’d had a lot to drink.” She smiled. “Maybe we should start over.” She held out her hand. “Darcie Moretti, physical address Trenton, New Jersey. Same town I’ve lived in all my life.”

      Flynn felt ridiculous exchanging pleasantries in the women’s rest room—especially in light of the fact that they’d slept together—but somehow Darcie Moretti made it seem normal.

      He accepted her hand, felt a kinetic jolt that both shocked and worried him. He saw her hazel eyes widen, saw them darken to the color of moss.

      “Well,” she murmured. “This is awkward.”

      His laughter was both strained and spontaneous—and took him totally by surprise. “You’re a contradiction, Darcie Moretti. You pull a feminine stunt by hiding out in the rest room, then blatantly admit to an attraction.”

      “I didn’t blatantly admit to an attraction. I only made a comment.”

      “An admission,” he argued. “And along those lines, how about some straight talk about where you think my daughter took off to.”

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