Daddy in the Making. Crystal Green

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      Great—the guilt trip. But Rita was firm in her resolutions. That night four months ago, she’d rushed into something she’d never thought she would be going into again. But now, with some time and distance behind her, she really did think that she’d dodged a bullet. The hotel had been busier than ever, and Kristy needed a mother who was focused on her, not on hormonal desires and scatterbrained affairs.

      â€œRita?” Vi smiled sadly. “I’d give anything to see you and the kids happy.”

      â€œAll of us are just fine. We’ll be very happy.”

      Rita just wanted to raise her daughter and this new child to be more than what she’d been known as in St. Valentine ever since Kevin had become a bitter, different man, then left her for the other woman she’d found out he’d been seeing while she was pregnant.

      Yes, Rita was the hard-luck case. But she’d done a damned good job of raising Kristy in spite of that until—

      No, she didn’t want to mull over Conn Flannigan again. Didn’t want her heart to ache with an agonizing heat just at the thought of him.

      The waitress brought the to-go container, and Vi stayed seated as Rita grabbed her purse, sliding the strap over her shoulder.

      â€œSomeday,” Vi said, “you’re not going to be able to ignore how you feel, Rita. You found it real easy to fall in love when we were kids. I wish it could be just as easy for you nowadays.”

      Rita’s pulse thudded in bruised rhythm, but just as she was about to buck up, the room suddenly went still, as if something had entered and caught everyone’s attention.

      When Rita glanced toward the entrance, her throat was tight. Was it …?

      Then she saw who had come in, and she relaxed, even though her heart jittered in her chest.

      It wasn’t Conn, thank goodness. But it was a man in beaten jeans and a long-sleeved black Western shirt who had taken a seat at a table that was removed from everyone else. He left his black cowboy hat on, the better to shade a dark-eyed, stoic face that everyone in town hadn’t stopped talking about since he’d arrived months ago, only to settle just on the outskirts of town after getting a job on a nearby ranch and renting a cabin.

      The Tony Amati look-alike—Jared Colton. And he was just as aloof as he’d been when he’d first arrived. He was a ringer for all the photos of Tony Amati hanging on the hotel and Queen of Hearts walls, and even though everyone had their own theories about how he was connected to the town founder, he was still a mystery that Vi and Davis had been trying to solve through their journalistic investigation and the published articles that had been picked up by some national outlets.

      Rita didn’t mind him at all, seeing as he’d helped stir up interest in St. Valentine, which had been languishing after the kaolin mine had stopped producing “china clay” for things such as plastic, paints and paper. Jared and Tony had certainly pumped up tourism and given her more to do, so that she could forget about her cowboy.

      â€œThe cipher cometh,” Vi whispered across the table. She grabbed her iPad with one hand, polishing off the last fry on her plate with the other. “I’ve got work to do.”

      â€œHe’s already told you a million times—no interviews.”

      â€œMaybe this is the time he’ll break.” Vi flashed her a determined smile and was off.

      Jared saw her coming, but his expression never altered, even as Vi took a seat across from him.

      When Rita left the saloon, she was careful to look both ways on the boardwalk before fully coming outside. Not seeing Conn Flannigan anywhere, she started to walk toward Kristy’s preschool, telling herself that Conn had gone home again.

      But why didn’t it feel so great to realize that?

      Conn and Emmet had stopped at a little Tomorrowland-like joint called the Orbit Diner for lunch, and now they were walking back to Emmet’s pickup truck, which they’d parked just off Amati Street, nearer to the hotel.

      â€œI wish you’d reconsider,” Emmet said.

      â€œThere’s too much to walk away from here.” During lunch, Conn hadn’t said anything about the tiny pooch of Rita’s belly. For all he knew, it could’ve been due to a weight gain, but he planned to get to the bottom of the story today.

      His pulse gathered speed every time he thought of her coming out from behind the hotel desk … the little bump on her … the way she’d left him frozen in his tracks.

      What if she was pregnant?

      Something—a memory?—stirred in the back of his mind, but it didn’t come through. Not yet. All he could hold on to now was his confusion at not knowing what the hell he felt.

      A baby, he thought.

      Was he even the type of guy who would make a good father?

      A tiny sense of panic ran through him, icing any emotion, as he and Emmet passed one of the burros that roamed St. Valentine. The critters were ancestors of the first burros that’d been used in the mines, and they were a tourist draw now, a town characteristic just as quirky as the Indian jewelry shop, the Old West trimmings or the mercantile that still made taffy and sold clothing, kitchen goods and souvenirs.

      Emmet hung his thumbs in his belt loops while they walked. “Conn, I’m really not comfortable taking the truck and stranding you here.”

      â€œWhy? There’s a rental car office in the new part of town up the hill. There’re clothes stores, a pharmacy and even a real live doctor, just in case you think I’ll need one.” He’d brought his meds, too, but he doubted he was going to stay long enough for them to run out.

      â€œMaybe we should both check into rooms.”

      â€œMaybe you should just get back to the ranch. They can’t afford to have both of us gone.”

      Just as he finished, the words died in the air, because straight up ahead, on the boardwalk, there she was.

      Rita, in her old-fashioned hotel uniform—the blouse and knee-length skirt. Her legs were long, especially in the light black stockings that clung to the curves of her calves. She was shapely all over, not slender, but …

       His hands skimming her hips … waist … the sides of her breasts …

      Desire flushed through him like a flood of lava.

      Every time he saw her he remembered yet another sensual moment. What else would come to him, though? Enough solid details to get him on his way to the rest of his life?

      Emmet sighed, then said, “Call me when you’re done and we’ll get that rental car.”

      â€œWill do.”

      Rita was heading the other way, her back СКАЧАТЬ