His Daughter...Their Child. Karen Smith Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ what his daughter needed, even if he wasn’t thrilled about Celeste’s potential involvement in her life. “I don’t have any tours tomorrow. Come over to the house around four. She should be up from her nap by then if she takes one. I’ll tell her I’ve invited you to her tea party. She has one almost every afternoon. Mom started it as a prelude to dinner so she’d eat some fruit and veggies.” He hesitated. “You know, Abby asked me this morning if you could visit again.”

      Celeste forgot about the barrel racers, the applause, the aroma of burgers and fries. So that was the reason he’d offered an olive branch.

      As she lifted her chin, Clay’s lips were within kissing distance. She spoke past the lump in her throat. “You won’t regret this, Clay.”

      Judging by his expression, he clearly didn’t believe her.

      Clay forced a smile when he opened the door to Celeste the following day. At the rodeo, he’d felt that disorienting tug of attraction again. His body had responded to her with startling insistence—and he didn’t like it. He’d always been a master of self-control—why was his body overruling his head?

      Celeste was carrying a two-foot-high plush calico cat. He commented amiably, “You brought a friend.”

      “For Abby.”

      “To keep away her nightmares?” he guessed, realizing there was a point to everything Celeste did.

      “Possibly. If not, just another friend to enjoy the tea party.”

      “Up until now, only bears were invited,” he said conversationally, leading her toward the sunroom at the back of the house. “But I think she’ll make an exception.” He added, “Mom’s still here. She stayed with Abby while I ran errands. Abby asked her to stay for snacks with you.” When he glanced over at Celeste, he saw she hadn’t reacted to that news.

      They entered the bright space with its floor-to-ceiling screened windows on two walls. His mother sat beside Abby on the floor, a porcelain tea set atop a white wooden table. There were fresh vegetables and fruit along with milk in the teapot.

      Celeste didn’t hesitate to approach his mother and Abby. “Hello, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s good to see you again.”

      His mother simply nodded in response.

      With the lift of a brow, Celeste crouched beside Abby. “Hi, Abby. Do you remember me?”

      His daughter smiled and nodded, too, not acting shy as she usually did with people she didn’t know well.

      “Well, good, I’m glad you do. I brought someone along today who would like to meet you. Her name is Tulullah. Tulullah, meet Abby.”

      Abby’s grin was so wide, Clay felt a tug at his heart. “Tooloo,” she tried to say.

      “Maybe we could just call her Lulu,” Celeste suggested.

      “I like Lulu,” Abby decided, looking over the cat and making room for it to sit on the floor.

      Celeste’s gaze found Clay’s, and he felt his pulse thump in his jaw. Determined to ignore the flash of heat, he lowered himself to the floor beside Celeste, his jean-clad thigh brushing hers as they settled in. Another jolt of adrenaline rushed through him that caused even more turmoil.

      She shifted away, and he told himself he was glad. This was not the time for his libido to wake up after two years of dormancy.

      “Would you like me to pour?” she asked Clay’s mother.

      “That would be fine,” his mother answered formally.

      He found himself watching Celeste much too closely. After she poured the milk, she took a sip from her cup, licked her lips, and set it on the table. Zoie would have done all that provocatively and on purpose. Celeste … He could see she was just enjoying spending time with Abby.

      “Do you know how long you’ll be staying in Miners Bluff?” his mother asked.

      Abby suddenly stood, ran to her toy bin in the corner and produced a hat with ribbon ties. Sidling up to Celeste, she asked, “Can you put it on Lulu? I can’t tie.”

      “Of course I can,” Celeste said, taking the hat from Abby. Then she answered Violet. “How long I stay depends on all of you.”

      His mom looked surprised at the answer.

      “She looks beautiful,” Celeste decreed, as the big pink bow flopped under Lulu’s chin. “That hat was a good idea.”

      Abby looked at Lulu, back at Celeste, then threw her arms around Celeste’s neck. “I like Lulu. I like you. T’ank you.”

      Clay watched Celeste’s eyes close and her lower lip tremble. “You’re most welcome.”

      Wiggling in again between Celeste and Lulu, Abby thoughtfully took a bite of strawberry. Then she tugged Celeste’s arm. “Can you play puzzles wif me?”

      Celeste looked at Clay as if for permission.

      He pointed to a stack of toddler puzzles on the bookshelf, but warned his daughter, “Celeste might have to go back to her own house. It’s getting near suppertime.”

      “Can she have supper wif us? And wash my bears?” Abby asked innocently.

      This he hadn’t expected.

      “If you have other plans, Abby will understand,” his mother assured her, as if she wanted her to go. In fact, she got to her feet as if to signal the tea party was over.

      But Clay had to find out what Celeste was made of. He had to find out if she belonged in his daughter’s life.

      “You’re welcome to stay,” he said gruffly, wanting to see what decision she would make.

      She didn’t hesitate. “I’d like to. But please let me help with dinner. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

      “Do you cook?” his mother asked her.

      “I do. It’s a hobby.”

      Clay’s mother frowned. “Well, you’re certainly very different from your sister. She preferred takeout, restaurants, or else a personal chef.”

      “Mom,” Clay said in warning.

      His mother eyed Celeste again. “I have to be going. Harold will be waiting for me.” She gave Abby a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey.”

      After an even longer look at Celeste, she said in a low voice to Clay, “I’ll tell your father you’re going to consider his ideas for your retirement account.”

      “No, Mom. I’m not.”

      “Humor him,” she coaxed.

      Clay sighed. “I’ll speak to him about the account, but I don’t intend to change anything.”

      “At least that’s something,” his mother murmured, squeezed his shoulder and then left the sunroom.

      Although СКАЧАТЬ