Not Quite Married. Christine Rimmer

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      The thing was, he looked so sincere in his pompous sort of way. And even if she didn’t want to let herself start to depend on him, she couldn’t help appreciating that he was doing everything he could to look after her.

      It was way too little too late. But that was almost as much her fault as his. She’d jumped to conclusions and thought he was married. He’d hired a detective and found out she was getting married. And neither of them had bothered to clear up the misunderstandings until months and months had passed.

      Now he’d started to look worried. “I do apologize,” he said again. “I mean that.”

      She gave in and muttered, “Apology accepted.” And then put up her forefinger. “One more call. And then I’ll lie back and relax. Promise.”

      He shook his head, looking all stuffy and put-upon—but then he shrugged.

      She went with the shrug and autodialed Rory, told her about fainting at the café and being stuck in the hospital for observation overnight. After Rory finished saying all the right things about how she was there if Clara needed her and please to take it easy, Clara told her about the really hideously ugly hospital gown she was wearing.

      Rory knew right away what she wanted. “I’ll go by the house, get whatever you need and bring it right over there.” Rory had a key to the house, just as Clara had a key to Rory and Walker’s place at the ranch. “You’re at General, right?”

      “I’m at General, yes. And here we have yet another reason why you’re my favorite cousin in the whole world. You know what I want without my even having to tell you.”

      “Back at you. Let me get a pencil...”

      Clara told Rory what to get and Rory wrote it down.

      And then Rory said, “I’ll be there. An hour, max.”

      They said goodbye. Clara set the phone on the rolling hospital bed table thingy and felt better about everything.

      Dalton was watching her, wearing a softer expression than usual, an expression that reminded her of the Dalton she’d known on the island. Which made her feel somehow a little less good about things. Where had that Dalton gone?

      He asked, “Was that the cousin who’s a princess, the one who’d planned to live in Colorado someday?”

      Had she told him about Rory? “Yes, and now she does live here in Colorado—and how did you know that?”

      “You told me on the island.”

      “I did? But we didn’t talk about our real lives...” Sadness wrapped around her heart—a glowing kind of sadness. It had been a beautiful two weeks.

      A smile twitched at one corner of his way-too-sexy mouth. “We had an agreement not to talk about our real lives, but you didn’t keep it.”

      “No,” she admitted. “I guess I didn’t.”

      “You were careful about the basics. You never mentioned Justice Creek or that you own a café. But you talked about your family and your friends. All those random things you told me made it a lot easier for that private investigator I hired to find you.”

      “You were more careful than I was.” At his nod, she went on. “I had your name, that you lived in Denver and that you were divorced. Luckily, you’re a big shot, so it wasn’t that hard to find you myself once I put my mind to it.”

      “To find me and then decide I was remarried and not bother to get in touch with me until three weeks ago.”

      “The important thing is, I did get in touch with you.”

      “Finally.”

      She looked at him dead-on. “Do you really want to go there right now, while I’m resting?”

      Those blue eyes were on her, so focused, so determined. “No. You’re right. I don’t.”

      She shoved at her ponytail, which had sagged rather sadly and would be coming completely undone any minute now. “May I have my purse, please?” He got right up and brought it to her. “Thank you.” He sat down again. She foraged around in the central compartment until she found her brush. And then she redid the ponytail, brushing it up and into her fist, then twisting the elastic back into place. “There. Much better.”

      He got up again and put the purse back in the locker. He was just shutting the metal door when the baby kicked her a good one.

      “Ouch!”

      He turned, fast, looking freaked. “Clara! What?”

      She laughed and rubbed the spot. “It’s just the baby. She’s a kicker.”

      He came to her side. “She?”

      She started to grab his hand and put it where he’d feel the next one—and then hesitated, suddenly self-conscious, a little embarrassed.

      Which was silly. She’d let complete strangers touch her tummy. Yeah, okay, the guy had done a number on her heart. But he was the father. And he was trying. She nodded, pushed the covers out of the way, took his hand and put it on the side swell of her stomach. The baby promptly kicked her again. She winced. “There. Feel it?”

      “I do.” He had that look, a look of wonder, of awe. It made her almost start to love him a little again, in spite of everything—scratch that. Like. It made her like him a little. Those blue eyes were shining. “By God, I feel it. I do.”

      She laughed again and held his hand as he pressed his big, warm palm to the side of her belly. Another kick. She chuckled. And Dalton made a low, marveling sound. His hand felt so strong, long fingers spread, against the side of her belly.

      And then her gaze went to his. They just stared at each other. With zero animosity. Only shared delight.

      He asked, “A girl, you said?”

      “Yes. I had an ultrasound.”

      “A girl,” he repeated, as if he’d never heard anything more miraculous in his life. “I never thought...”

      “What?”

      He looked faintly abashed. She found that way too charming. “I don’t know,” he said almost shyly. “A girl, that’s all. A little girl. What do you think of that?” It wasn’t really a question. More an exclamation along the lines of Isn’t that awesome? Or How completely cool.

      Clara watched his face and remembered the sweet, passionate, caring man she’d fallen in love with. Why was he hiding from her? Where had he gone?

      She was actually considering asking him, when her half sisters Jody and Nell appeared in the open door to the hallway.

      He must have caught the shift in her gaze. Pulling his hand away, breaking that tenuous connection, he turned toward the door.

      * * *

      Rocked to the core by the feel of his daughter’s tiny foot poking against his СКАЧАТЬ