Colton's Cowboy Code. Melissa Cutler

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      She squared her shoulders and strode toward the diner door, harnessing her pride and owning her power. She was a terrific accountant and a good person. That had to count for something. Maybe Mr. Anonymous Businessman would be the first person to see her for the workplace asset she could be.

      Inside the Armadillo, the smell of old, burned coffee and cooking eggs rushed up on Hannah, making her stomach lurch. She ground to a stop in the waiting area. Hands on her hips, she raised her face to the ceiling and breathed through her mouth as the wave of nausea passed. When she’d selected the diner as a meeting place, she’d been hoping for a free meal, not the possibility of the diner smells triggering her morning sickness.

      “You okay, darlin’?”

      Hannah lowered her gaze to see a middle-aged waitress eyeing her with concern from behind blue-tinted eyelashes, tapping a laminated menu against her palm.

      “I think so. Food smells, you know?” She rubbed her baby bump and offered a smile to Janice, or so the waitress’s name tag read.

      “Oh, I know. Try working here while pregnant, with the omelets in the morning and the liver-platter special at dinner. I spent the first half of each of my pregnancies serving the food, then running to the can. How far along are you?”

      The mention of eggs and liver had Hannah raising her face to the ceiling again. “Nineteen weeks.”

      “Ah. Well, the worst of it should be about over. You want a table near the air vent, I bet.”

      After another fortifying breath through her mouth, Hannah lowered her face and smiled at Janice. “Actually, I’m meeting someone here. Job interview.”

      Her curiosity about Mr. Anonymous’s identity had her shifting her gaze from Janice to the row of window booths. There was only one man at a booth by the window. Brett Colton, and he was standing up next to the table, his napkin in his hand, nailing her with a gaze of utter shock.

      Gasping, Hannah wrenched her face away. Crap on a cracker. This can’t be happening.

      Janice’s voice floated over the air as though from a great distance. “Well, bless your heart, looking for work in your condition. What does your baby daddy have to say about that?”

      Her baby daddy was about to say a whole lot because, judging by his expression, he’d heard the whole exchange with Janice and was really good at doing fast math in his head.

      “Excuse me,” Hannah muttered. Then she pivoted in place and marched back out the door.

      She paced the sidewalk in front of the diner, garnering her courage because she knew with 100 percent certainty that Brett was going to follow her out and demand the answers he deserved. Over the past few months, she’d played this moment in her head a dozen different ways, but it never looked anything like this. She never planned to leave him in the dark about the baby. All she’d wanted to do was hold off on telling him until she had a job and a permanent place to stay.

      “Anna, wasn’t it?” The growl of Brett Colton’s sexy-as-sin voice had her freezing in her tracks. She squeezed her eyes closed as mortification set in that the father of her child didn’t even remember her name correctly. Then again, what did she expect from Tulsa’s most notorious playboy? She bet he seduced a different girl every night of the week, or so the rumors would have her believe.

      She fluttered her eyes open and caught sight of her reflection in the Fluff and Fold window again, surprised at the sight of a meek girl hanging her head, dread and guilt etched in her features. What happened to the proud, confident woman she’d been only a few minutes earlier? She’d done nothing wrong and broken no rules. There was no official timetable on telling a man you were pregnant with his child.

      Clinging to that truth, she straightened up, smoothed her features, and then spun to face Brett. “It’s Hannah, actually.”

      He winced at that, and then those soulful green eyes turned sheepish—a reaction that Hannah found absurdly comforting. “Sorry. Hannah.” He closed and opened his mouth, his eyes flitting from her belly to her face, as though he was in the same clueless state of communication as she was. “I, uh...you’re, um...nineteen weeks. That’s about when we, uh...”

      “Yes. I know. It’s yours,” she blurted. And cue her turn to wince. So much for breaking the news to him gently.

      The sheepishness vanished from his face, along with the color. “That’s impossible.”

      She schooled her features to mask a sudden flare of irritation. “Really? Ya think?” Okay, so maybe she hadn’t done that terrific a job concealing her feelings.

      “We used protection, so how is that possible?”

      She’d asked herself that same question a million times. “Yes, we did. We used protection that you supplied, in fact. So maybe you should be the one explaining to me how it happened.”

      His eyes narrowed. “Moving on. You’re going to have to work pretty hard to convince me of the reason you kept this from me. When were you planning on telling me, anyway? Or did you?”

      The accusation dripping from his words got her back up. “So you didn’t remember my name correctly, yet you expected me to remember yours and know where to find you? Narcissistic much?”

      His mouth fell open at that and the color returned to his face in full force. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I...”

      He looked so abashed and sincerely apologetic that all the fight rushed out of her. “That wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry. The truth is, I did remember your name and I fully planned to tell you. I was looking to get my life in order first.”

      The ranching community of Tulsa was an everybody’s in everybody’s business kind of town, and Hannah couldn’t bear for her baby to be born under a cloud of suspicion and rumors that his or her mother was a gold digger, getting pregnant on purpose to get at the Colton fortune. It would be bad enough for her baby having its mama’s reputation run through the mud in the church community.

      His mouth screwed up as though he didn’t buy what she was selling. “By answering a sketchy classified ad for temporary work? I’ve been in your car and to your apartment. Your life is the opposite of screwed up. Try again.”

      She smoothed a hand over her stomach out of habit. If he wanted to hear the whole pathetic story, then who was she to deny him?

      “That’s the truth, whether you believe it or not. When my parents found out I was pregnant, they relieved me of the burden of being their daughter, which included firing me from managing the feed-supply store they own. And, because I’d sunk all my money into getting my accounting degree, I had nothing in savings. So I sold my car to pay my doctor bills, which then got me evicted from my apartment.

      “I’m trying to get my life back on track, but nothing I’ve tried is working. I can’t just snap my fingers and fix my life. All I wanted to do is land on my feet before coming to you. A job. And a place to live.” She’d wanted to tell him truthfully that she was doing fine and didn’t need his financial support or—God forbid—a mercy proposal of marriage. She’d seen enough of her parents’ own unhappy marriage to know that wasn’t the life she wanted for her or her child.

      “The only trouble is,” she continued, “who’s going to hire a pregnant СКАЧАТЬ