“My job is to protect her. Karen trusted me with that responsibility and I’ll do it as best I can.”

Fiona wrapped her arms around her waist and sat forward. “I won’t screw this up. And I’ll be whatever she needs me to be. There’s no question about me trying to replace her mother. But I can be her friend.”

“Yes, you can.”

She let out a breath and experienced a heady warmth low down. There was something in his expression which heightened her awareness of him on every level.

She pushed some words out. “So, I guess considering you’re her legal guardian, we should be friends, too.”

Another look, longer, hotter. Hot enough to raise her temperature a degree or two.

“Logically. But I get the sense that whatever’s going on here,” he said and flicked a hand in the air, “it’s got nothing to do with friendship.”

“I don’t think—”

“And everything to do with sex.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Crystal Point and to my second book for Mills & Boon® Cherish™.

If you’ve read my first book you might remember Fiona Walsh from Made for Marriage. Fiona is a kindhearted, friendly schoolteacher who has settled in the small town to escape a painful past. But the secret she’s kept hidden for fifteen years is suddenly a secret no more when businessman Wyatt Harper turns up and informs her that his teenage niece wants to meet her birth mother. Very soon Fiona comes face-to-face with the child she gave up for adoption when she was just fifteen, and finds herself falling for a man who has sworn off love.

I’ve had so many readers ask me when the bubbly yet very much alone Fiona will get her happy ending, and I hope you enjoy her journey and fall a little in love with Wyatt along the way. I also invite you to return to Crystal Point very soon.

I love hearing from readers and can be contacted via my website at www.helenlacey.com.

Warmest wishes,

Helen Lacey

About the Author

HELEN LACEY grew up reading Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven years old, a story about a girl and her horse. She continued to write, with the dream of one day being a published author, and writing for Mills & Boon® Cherish™ is the realization of that dream. She loves creating stories about strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com.

His-and-Hers Family
Helen Lacey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my dad, William Lacey,

1926–1994

who taught me to love books and who I still miss every day.

Chapter One

It was the third time she had seen him in two days. And because she had a vivid imagination, Fiona Walsh had created all kinds of possible scenarios as to why the most gorgeous man she’d ever clapped her eyes upon appeared to be following her every move.

Who was he? An admirer? Lottery official? Stalker?

Yesterday morning she’d spotted him across the road outside her house, leaning on the hood of his car and speaking into his cell phone. She’d gone to collect her morning paper from the footpath and hung around by the gate for a few minutes, feigning interest in her wilted herb garden. Then he appeared by the foreshore that same afternoon while she ran her dog along the beach. Same car. Same kind of well-cut clothes. Same dark hair and superbly chiseled features.

Now he was at the riding school where she stabled her horse.

Fiona eased Titan, her Thoroughbred gelding, to a halt in the center of the sand arena and lifted the rim of her helmet. The man remained by his car, leaning against the door as he watched her. There was nothing threatening in his demeanor. He appeared more mildly curious than anything else. With the idea he wasn’t about to attack her and toss her in the trunk of his car firmly out of her head, Fiona experienced a strange warmth across her skin. Handsome, nice car, the kind of clothes that oozed confidence—she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

He was on his cell again, talking as he watched her. Fiona collected the reins and clicked Titan forward. The big gelding obeyed instantly, and she maneuvered him toward the entrance gate. No more guessing games. She’d find out who the man was and just what he wanted. Right now.

She dismounted and tethered Titan to the hitching rail. Once he was secured, she pulled off her riding hat and wasted a few seconds adjusting her hair. As she left the arena and walked purposefully across the yard, Fiona watched him end his call, slip the cell phone into a pocket and straighten to his full, broad-shouldered height.

Ten feet away she stopped and clipped her booted heels together. He was ridiculously good-looking and appeared to be in his early thirties. Even though sunglasses shielded his eyes, Fiona knew he was staring at her. She suddenly had a silly thought about her appearance and wished she’d worn something other than her grass-stained riding breeches and century-old T-shirt.

Silence stretched like elastic. Finally, she summoned the nerve and drew in a deep breath. “I guess you’re not here to tell me I’ve won the lottery?”

He cracked a half smile and flipped the sunglasses off. “No.”

She clamped her hands on her hips and tried to ignore the way her belly rolled over when she met his perfectly brilliant blue eyes. “Then why are you following me?”

“I’m not,” he said and took a step toward her.

Fiona widened her gaze. “Three times in two days?” She clicked her fingers. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

“It’s not a coincidence at all,” he replied. “I’ve simply been waiting for the appropriate time to speak with you.”

Fiona raised her chin as annoyance wove up her spine. He had a little too much self-assurance for her liking. “With me? What on earth for? I don’t know you, and I—”

“Are you Fiona Lorelle Walsh?” he asked quietly, cutting her off.

She stilled and her breath grabbed at her throat. “What do you want?” she asked as suspicion crept along her skin.

He took another step. “To talk to you.”

Fiona stared at him. He knew her full name? Who was he?

She had the urge to retreat. Get away. Put distance between herself and his lovely eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy at the moment. I have to get back to my horse,” she said and pivoted on her heels.

“Miss Walsh?” he called after her. “Fiona?”

She stopped midstride and took another breath, deeper, longer. Titan moved restlessly from his spot by the gate as though he sensed her unease. She spotted Callie Preston, owner of the riding school and her closest friend, walking across the arena toward the two remaining riders. If she needed her friend, Callie would be at her side in a moment. But she kept her wits. Whoever this stranger was, she wasn’t afraid of him. Fiona turned around and faced the man behind her.

Her heart continued to thump madly. In the sunlight his hair appeared almost black and shimmered in a way she’d usually find attractive. But a voice told her not to think about him like that. “Who are you?”

“My name is Wyatt Harper.”

She didn’t recognize it. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“What about?”

He stepped closer. “Perhaps we could go somewhere a little more private.”

Fiona bristled. “This is plenty private.”

He glanced toward the other riders and then back to her. After a moment he drew in a breath. “Okay. Firstly, let me assure you that I’m not any kind of threat to you.”

Fiona didn’t feel threatened. But her curiosity was at an all-time high. Sensing she needed every advantage she could get, she didn’t quite let him off the hook. “I guess I’ll know that when you tell me what you want.” He smiled, and Fiona’s insides gave a silly leap. “So, start talking.”

He nodded. “Like I said, my name is Wyatt Harper.” He pulled a small card from his shirt pocket and held it toward her.

She knew he stood still deliberately, allowing her the chance to move forward so he wouldn’t appear intimidating. Smooth, she thought. And clever. She took a couple of steps, snatched the card and read it as she moved backward again. Sure enough, it said Wyatt Harper in bold print, with the title of managing director of Harper Engineering underneath it.

So, he had an impressive-looking job. It didn’t explain what he wanted with her. “And?”

He met her gaze directly and took his time replying. “I’m here on behalf of Cecily Todd.”

Cecily Todd? Fiona shook her head. “I don’t know who that—”

“Cecily is my niece,” he said quietly, interrupting her, “and the child you gave up for adoption fourteen years ago.” Her world quickly tilted on some invisible axis.

No. I don’t believe it.

Oh, my God … is this happening?

She’d thought about this moment for years. Imagined it. Dreamed it and dreaded it. And her knees, usually rock-solid and strong, weakened like a bowl of jelly. Fiona bowed over fractionally as the air tried to squeeze into her lungs.

Breathe … just breathe …

He stepped forward but she raised a hand to warn him off. “Take deep breaths.”

He was clearly concerned but Fiona wasn’t in any mood to be grateful. “Yeah,” she huffed and cast him a sharp look. “No problem.”

“Perhaps you should sit down,” he suggested and looked around. “There are steps by the house. You could—”

“No,” she said raggedly and gulped in air. “Please … just … stop.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t do that.”

She grabbed her knees for support, took a deep breath and then straightened. He dropped his hand and stepped back. She drew in another steadying breath, trying to rally her strength.

“I’d like to talk with you about my niece,” he said.

“Your niece?” she echoed vaguely, suddenly light-headed. Fiona put a hand to her temple. It was surreal. Dreamlike. As if it was happening to someone else, in some kind of alternate reality. “I feel a little woozy,” she admitted.

He grasped her arm and this time she didn’t ward him off. “Come on, you need to sit down.”

She let him lead her toward the house. There were three steps, and he urged her to sit on the bottom rung. Fiona dropped her head between her knees. “I’m not normally like this.”

“I surprised you,” he said evenly. “I’m sorry.”

“Surprised?” Fiona craned her neck to look at him. “You just shocked the hell out of me.”

“What’s going on here?”

She looked up. Callie stood twenty feet away. Her friend looked suspicious and regarded them seriously.

“It’s all right, Callie,” Fiona said. “I felt a little dizzy for a moment. I’m okay now.”

“Who’s this?” the other woman asked.

Fiona glanced at the man standing near her and saw his masked irritation at being spoken about in the third person. “Wyatt Harper,” he said.

Fiona pulled her head up before her friend had a chance to respond. “Thanks for coming over, Callie, but I’m fine now.”

She didn’t look convinced. “If you’re sure …”

“I’m sure,” Fiona said quickly.

She lingered for a moment, nodded and then walked off in the direction of the stables.

“Friend of yours?” he asked once she was out of earshot.

“Yes,” Fiona replied. “She owns this place.”

He nodded vaguely. “Are you really feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

He nodded. “About Cecily, I wanted to—”

“Are you sure?” she asked, cutting him off. “I mean, are you sure she’s … or that I’m her …”

“Her birth mother?”

She swallowed the heavy emotion in her throat. “Yes.”

“If you’re Fiona Walsh, then yes, I’m sure. I have documentation to support that you gave birth to Cecily.”

She took a deep breath, drawing strength. “And you’re her uncle?”

“That’s right. My sister and her husband adopted Cecily.”

A lovely couple. That’s what she’d been told by the adoption agency. People who would be able to give her daughter everything she couldn’t. Stability. Safety. A perfect home. She’d had fourteen years to imagine what they were like. Fourteen years where she hadn’t known her child’s name. Fourteen years to dream about reconnecting with the baby she’d given up.

But not like this. Not when she was totally unprepared and caught off guard. Whoever he was, and whatever he wanted, Fiona had no intention of falling apart in front of him. She didn’t do vulnerable. Ever.

She stood and crossed her arms. The only words she could form came out. “Why now?”

He waited to respond, taking stretched-out seconds as he looked her over. “Because Cecily wants to meet you.”

She shook her head instinctively. No one was going to turn her world upside down. Not ever again. She wasn’t fifteen and gullible. She was nearly thirty and called the shots in her own life. If Wyatt Harper thought rocking up unannounced was going to give him an advantage, he could think again. If she had this conversation, she’d do it when she was ready, and not before.

“I can’t do this here,” she said and tilted her chin, defiant and with way more strength than she felt. “I won’t. I need time to think. Goodbye, Mr. Harper.”

“Fiona, you need to—”

“Goodbye,” she said again and turned on her boots. She walked in a straight line back to the dressage arena and felt the sear of his gaze right up until she was out of view.

Minutes later she heard the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires. He was gone.

Fiona spent the following hour in a daze. She attended to Titan, got him untacked, fed and rugged, and headed home before Callie had a chance to question her about Wyatt Harper. She wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation, not even from her closest friend.

Once she opened the door of her small house, dropped her keys on the hall stand and made her way to the living room, she let out an emotional shudder.

My daughter.

She sank down into the sofa.

My daughter’s name is Cecily. Fiona had wondered so often what they’d called her. She hadn’t had the strength to name her baby. It was better that way … that was what she’d been told.

The only way.

But how she’d despaired over her decision. Even knowing that at fifteen she hadn’t been in a position to care for a baby and giving her up had been her only option.

The hardest decision I’d ever make.

That’s what the nurses at the small country hospital where she’d given birth had said.

Your baby will be better off.

And then her great-uncle’s voice, reminding her about her own mother.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Back then she’d believed him. Memories of her mother, Shayne, were etched into her mind. Unreliable, self-absorbed, an irresponsible flake, more interested in staying out late and getting high than being a parent. A woman who’d forfeited her chance for an education at seventeen to raise a child she never really wanted, and who’d married a man she’d never loved. A marriage that had lasted two years. Tired of her life in the small town where she’d been raised and the rules she was forced to follow living in her uncle’s house, Shayne packed up a then five-year-old Fiona and began following the rodeo circuit. She chased one cowboy after another, dragging Fiona through countless motel rooms and a string of transient jobs.

When she was fifteen, Fiona had been shipped back to her great-uncle … alone and scared and pregnant. Fiona had few illusions about Shayne. Her mother’s reaction to her pregnancy was borne out of anger and resentment. Three weeks after Fiona was left at her uncle’s farm, Shayne and her much younger rodeo-rider boyfriend were killed in a railway-crossing accident. She didn’t grieve, didn’t feel. There was too much hurt, too much betrayal, too much pain.

Six months later Fiona had given up her baby after only fifteen minutes of holding her. She’d said goodbye to her precious daughter and handed her over to strangers, hoping with all her heart that her baby would be treasured by her new family, knowing that because she’d agreed to a closed adoption she could never look for her, and lived on the hope that one day her daughter would seek her out. But she’d never really believed it. Never let hope linger for too long.

Until Wyatt Harper dropped into her world.

Her daughter’s uncle. An envoy. Clearly here to check her out. Although, since he knew her full name, he’d probably done a fair amount of checking already. Fiona gripped her hands together. How much did he know? The paper trail was meager at best. With Shayne dead there was nothing linking Fiona to her mother’s lover. Or what had happened on that terrible night.

Nothing except Cecily.

No one knew the truth. No one ever would. Fiona had held on to her secret for over fourteen years. There was no mention of him anywhere. She hadn’t talked about it since the day she was dumped on her uncle’s doorstep. Her daughter’s birth certificate stated father unknown. He was dead. What good would rehashing it do now?

Only … Wyatt Harper had turned up and she knew he’d have questions. Questions I can’t answer. There would be no nice way to admit the truth about her daughter’s conception.

So what did he really want? Did her daughter actually want to meet her? And if so, where were her adoptive parents? Why had Wyatt Harper been sent on this digging mission?

If she wanted answers, she had to pull herself together.

First, a shower and a change of clothes. And then a strategy. She liked strategies and lists and being organized. She didn’t like being in the dark. She didn’t like Wyatt Harper knowing things about her when she knew nothing of him.

She fingered the business card he’d given her. Seconds later she was at her computer and typed Harper Engineering into the search engine. It wasn’t long before she had a dozen or so hits. He was from the third generation of Harpers to run the steel-fabrication business. With well over one hundred employees at the huge factory on the outskirts of Sydney, he appeared to be doing everything right. There was a nice picture of him, too, with his father and grandfather. It was clearly a family business in the truest sense of the word.

Fiona flicked off the computer and headed for the kitchen. Muffin, her energetic Tenterfield Terrier, jumped up at the back door, and she quickly let the dog inside and fed her. The card in her hand burned her fingertips. There was only one way to find out what he wanted.

He’d failed. When he’d promised Cecily he wouldn’t. Fiona Walsh obviously wasn’t prepared to talk, and Wyatt felt as if the door had been well and truly slammed. She’d said she needed time—but time for what? She’d looked horrified when he’d faced her with the news. Her pretty face had turned ghost-pale, emphasizing the brightness of her lips and sparkling blue-gray eyes.

He shouldn’t have confronted her out in the open. Yesterday would have been better. But the moment he’d spotted her walking from her little house in her cute pajamas, he’d forgotten why he was there. Forgotten that he had a job to do and forgotten that Cecily was relying on him to not screw it up. But by the time he’d shaken the image of Fiona Walsh’s bouncing hair and pretty face out of his head, she had disappeared inside.

Now, back in his hotel room, Wyatt had time to think about the way he’d ruined his chances. Cecily would be bitterly disappointed, and the last thing his niece needed was more of that. He checked emails and called his personal assistant. Glynis had been with him for ten years; she’d been with his father for twenty before that. The sixty-year-old widow was his right arm, sometimes his conscience and often his sounding board.

“Your flight is booked for tomorrow morning,” she told him. “You are still coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure.”

She made a disagreeable sound. “And Miss Walsh?”

“I’ve made contact. We’ll see what happens.” He wasn’t about to admit he might have screwed up.

“Just be careful,” she warned. “Sleeping dogs sleep for a good reason. Sometimes the past is best left where it is.”

“It’s what Cecily wants,” he said and ended the call, feeling the weight of his promise to Cecily press between his shoulder blades.

When his niece had asked him to find her birth mother, Wyatt hadn’t been surprised and he had understood her motives. Cecily wanted answers. Now that he’d met Fiona Walsh, Wyatt was intrigued and wanted some answers, too. He knew she was a teacher and had lived in Crystal Point for five years. Before that there had been a series of jobs at various schools, none lasting more than six months. She appeared to go from one small town to the next, never settling until now. What made Crystal Point different? Did she have roots in the small community? From the investigation he’d undertaken, Wyatt knew there were no relatives, only a great-uncle who’d passed away twelve months earlier and left her a modest inheritance after the sale of his property out west. There were no parents. No siblings. Not even a distant cousin she could claim as family.

Fiona Walsh seemed to be as alone as a person could possibly get.

She wasn’t married … but maybe she had a boyfriend? She was as pretty as hell, after all. Her hair was an amazing color, not red, not blond but an unusual mix of both. In more normal circumstances, Wyatt would probably have been attracted to her.

Whoa … where did that come from?

He was here on Cecily’s behalf. The kid had been through enough over the past eighteen months. Now she wanted to find her birth mother, and it was Wyatt’s job to help her. He wasn’t about to get caught up in Fiona’s lovely blue-gray eyes. He wasn’t about to rush into getting caught up with anyone, not after the disastrous end to his engagement eighteen months earlier. Yvette’s betrayal had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knew he had to see Fiona again. He had to make her listen.

His cell rang and he picked up on the third ring. “Wyatt Harper.”

“I’ll meet you in half an hour.”

Her husky voice was unmistakable. She’d called. Maybe he hadn’t screwed up after all? “Great. Shall I come to you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

Wyatt gave her the name of the hotel.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the foyer at five o’clock.” Then she hung up.

Fiona’s drive into Bellandale took twenty minutes. The town was four hours north of Brisbane and had a population of sixty thousand. The streets were typically quiet for a Sunday afternoon, and she scored a parking spot outside the hotel. With her nerves severely stretched, she walked through the front doors and into the lobby.

There was no sign of him. She checked her watch. Three minutes to five.

Fiona ignored the concierge and headed for the lounge area in the centre of the lobby. There was a bar close by, and a waiter immediately approached to take her order. She declined and sank into one of the leather sofas. The foyer was eerily quiet, except for the faint sound of piped music and the occasion click of heels over the polished floor.

“Hello, Fiona.”

She snapped her neck around. Wyatt Harper had approached and stood only feet away. Fiona did her best to overlook the way her traitorous belly flipped over. Okay … so he was good-looking and possessed the kind of body that was hard to ignore in his dark chinos and a white polo shirt. And he had great hair and glittering blue eyes. Big deal. The world was full of gorgeous men. And because this one had just dropped a bombshell into her organized little life, Fiona had every intention of ignoring the way her blood heated when he was within a six-foot radius.

“Hello.”

He looked at her oddly and the heat intensified. Fiona pushed her hair back with shaking fingers, suddenly nervous of his scrutiny. Something flashed in his eyes. Approval? Disapproval? Did she look as if she was trying too hard with her sensible denim skirt, modest print blouse and even more sensible sandals? Maybe she should have put her hair up instead of letting it curl madly around her head? She bit at her lower lip to get rid of the lipstick she’d dabbed on.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

Fiona noticed the narrow black folder he carried. “I don’t see the point in hiding from the truth.”

He nodded, sat down opposite her and placed the folder on the low table between them. “So you acknowledge that you’re Cecily’s birth mother?”

Fiona inhaled. “I admit that I had a child fourteen years ago.” She pointed to the folder. “You seem to have all the evidence that she’s the baby I gave up for adoption.”

“I do have proof,” he said quietly. “Although one look at Cecily would be enough to convince you.” He pushed himself back in the lounge. “She looks just like you. Same hair. Same chin. Same …” He looked at her mouth for a moment and Fiona’s skin warmed. “Same color eyes.”

She managed a brittle smile and twirled a lock of hair between her fingertips. “Poor kid got stuck with this color.”

He watched her actions with blistering intensity. “She’s very pretty.”

Fiona’s heart began to beat a little faster. She drew in a breath and asked the question that burned on the end of her tongue. “What does she know about me?”

Wyatt Harper’s eyes darkened fractionally. “She knows you were young when you had her. Cecily has always known she was adopted. My sister Karen and her husband, Jim, were open with her from an early age and supported her decision to find her birth mother when she was ready.”

“And she’s ready now—is that what you’re saying?”

He nodded. “She began talking about finding you nearly two years ago. Karen and Jim planned to start searching but …” He stopped and took a moment. When he spoke again, Fiona heard rawness in his voice. “They were killed eighteen months ago.”

Emotion she didn’t understand clutched her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “How did it happen?”

“They were rock fishing,” he replied. “They got swept off a rock shelf. It was a crazy accident. They were mad for a dangerous sport and paid the price. When they died, that left Cecily—”

“Alone,” Fiona said quickly and covered her mouth when she realized how it sounded.

“No, not alone,” Wyatt told her pointedly. “She has her family. I was going to say that it left her with a lot to deal with. She handled it pretty well, considering. A few months ago, she announced she was ready to find you.”

“She really wants to meet me?”

He nodded. “Yes, she does.”

Her breath caught again. My daughter wants to meet me. Fiona got goose bumps. This was what she wanted … right? To know the child she’d given up. She had everything to gain from such a meeting. Everything. Then why does the thought of it make me want to run?

“When?” she asked and pulled herself forward.

“It’s not that simple,” he said quietly.

Fiona twisted her hands in her lap. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Cecily has been through a lot, and as her legal guardian, I am going to make sure she is protected.”

“From me?” she whispered and fought the rising annoyance. His responses were vague at best, and it irritated her no end. Fiona pulled her fractured nerves together. “I would never hurt her.”

“Perhaps not intentionally. But I have to be sure about you. I need to be certain you won’t do anything to jeopardize Cecily’s emotional state.”

Dumbstruck, Fiona glared at him with a mixture of disbelief and slowly gathering rage. His inference was insulting. But she quickly bit back her infamous redheaded temper. Getting mad with him wouldn’t serve her. He held all the cards. And he knew it. “So what do I have to say to prove that I wouldn’t do anything to upset her?”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “How about you start by telling me why you gave your baby away?”

Chapter Two

Wyatt knew he was out of line. She looked as if she wanted to slap his face. But he had to know what kind of person Fiona Walsh was before he’d let her into Cecily’s life, no matter how much his niece wanted to know her.

It didn’t help that she was so incredibly pretty his mind kept wandering.

“Isn’t it in the file?” Her eyes darkened as she pointed to the folder between them. “I’m assuming that’s some sort of report about me, about my life? If you’ve done your homework, you’d know that I was fifteen when I had Cecily and not in a position to care for a child.”

“And your parents?”

“My mother’s dead,” she supplied. “But I guess you already knew that.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know your mother was killed in a train-crossing accident with her boyfriend.”

“And you know the man she claimed was my father died when I was three years old.”

“Claimed?” he asked.

She shrugged. “She married Eddie Walsh and I was born six months later. They only lived together for two years. I was told he disappeared and then died in a rodeo accident, although I’m not actually sure that’s true. He could have skipped to avoid paying child support for all I know. What else do you want to know?”

There was enough bristle in her tone to make it clear she had a temper but was doing her best to keep it under wraps. “You’re being very candid.”

She raised a brow. “Isn’t that what you want? Answers … and an opportunity to see if I’m respectable and responsible enough to meet Cecily?”

“I don’t—”

“And once you figure that out, Mr. Harper,” she said, cutting him off without batting a lash, “you can answer my questions.”

There’s that temper.

Wyatt might have liked her to simply back down and agree to everything he said but he didn’t really expect it. And he respected her spirit. “Wyatt.”

“What?”

“My name,” he replied. “It’s Wyatt.”

“Okay … Wyatt … so ask me another question. Ask me as many questions as you like.”

He went for the most important. “Cecily’s father? There’s no record of him on the birth certificate.”

“No record.” Visible shutters quickly came up and it waved like a red flag. “That’s right. It’s what I wanted.”

Wyatt pressed on. “Is there any chance he might make an appearance in her life?”

“No chance,” she replied hollowly. “He’s dead.”

Dead? He hadn’t expected that. “Who was he?”

“No one.”

He immediately wondered if she knew who Cecily’s biological father was, but didn’t like how the question sounded rolling around in his head. “Does he have a name?”

“Since he’s dead it really doesn’t make any difference.”

“Unless his family tries to have some claim on Cecily in the future.”

“They won’t,” she said stiffly. “No one knows about him. My mother made sure of it.”

Wyatt’s interest grew. “She didn’t approve?”

“What mother would approve of her fifteen-year-old daughter being pregnant?”

He nodded slowly. “You said you weren’t in a position to care for a child? Did you mean because of your age or something else?”

“I lived with my elderly great-uncle,” she said stiffly. “My mother was dead. I was two years away from finishing high school. I had no income and no way of supporting myself or my baby.”

It sounded like an impossible situation for a teenage girl. “If it’s any consolation to you, Karen and Jim loved Cecily very much. They’d been trying to have a baby for a long time. Cecily brought them a great deal of happiness.”

She smiled and the sparks in her eyes faded. “They didn’t have any other children?”

Wyatt begrudgingly admired how she’d seamlessly moved the questions onto him. “Just Cecily.”

“And you’re her guardian now?”

“That’s right,” he replied. “Karen was the daughter from my father’s first marriage and she was twelve years older than me.”

She nodded fractionally. “So, you and your wife care for her?”

“I’m not married,” he said but was pretty sure she knew that already from the look on her face.

Her expression narrowed. “Does Cecily live with you?”

“She spends most of her time at Waradoon, our family property in the Hunter Valley, which is just over an hour’s drive from Harper Engineering. My parents are retired and my youngest sister still lives at home. Cecily goes to the local high school and is well settled. I have a place in the city but go to Waradoon most weekends. If not, Cecily visits me in the city.”

“Why did they grant guardianship to you?”

He’d wondered it himself in the beginning. Neither Karen nor Jim had discussed what would happen to their daughter upon their deaths. Finding out he was named sole custodian of their precious child had come as a shock.

“Jim had no siblings and his parents are both in poor health,” he explained. “My mother spends as much time with Cecily as she can. But my father is over seventy with a heart condition, my sister Ellen has a four-year-old and two-year-old twins, and my youngest sister, Rae, is twenty-five and in her third year of studying veterinary medicine.”

“So you don’t actually spend a lot of time with her?”

It was a pretty mild dig, but it annoyed him anyway. “I have a business to run and I get home when I can, which is usually most weekends. Cecily understands that. She also likes living at Waradoon. She has her horse there and her friends are close—”

“She has a horse?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Something you have in common.”

Wyatt stared at her, intrigued by the way her eyes changed color. He liked the coppery shine of her hair and the way it bounced around her face. He liked it a lot. And her perfectly shaped mouth was amazing. Something uncurled low in his abdomen, a kind of slow-burning awareness. He’d met pretty girls before. Prettier even. But he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had attracted him so much and so quickly.

“So,” she said after a moment. “What now?”

Wyatt forced his focus back to the issue. “That’s up to Cecily.”

He watched as her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth for a moment. “It looks like it’s up to you.”

“I’m not about to rush into this.” In fact, Wyatt had no intention of rushing into anything ever again. If he’d shown that same sense less than two years ago, Yvette might not have had the opportunity to wreak havoc on his life and his family. “Although I understand how difficult that must be for you to hear.”

“Do you?” she asked quietly.

Wyatt didn’t miss the rawness in her voice. “There are a lot of people who risk getting hurt, and my primary job is to protect my niece.” And you. He didn’t say it, but the notion lodged firmly behind his ribs. He had what might be considered old-fashioned values … about some things. Maybe it came from having an older father. Whatever the reason, Wyatt wasn’t about to start making decisions that had the potential to turn lives upside down, without thinking them through long and hard.

“Can I see that?” she asked and reached across to finger the edges of the folder on the table.

“Of course.”

She slid it across her lap and opened the folder. Wyatt remained silent as she examined the contents. Her expression changed several times as she flicked through the pages, shifting from annoyance to sadness and then a kind of strained indignation.

“You’ve done your homework.” She pushed the folder toward him. “You’ve got everything from a copy of Cecily’s birth certificate to my sixth-grade report card. I hope you paid your investigator well for all the hard work.”

Wyatt’s spine straightened. “I needed to know who you were. Investigating your background was simply part of that process. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“That’s not who I am,” she said as she grabbed her small handbag and stood. “That’s a pile of paper.”

Wyatt quickly got to his feet. “Then tell me who you are.”

She glanced at the folder again. “I think you’ve already made up your mind. I think you know all about my childhood, you know my father ran off and that my mother was a junkie who couldn’t hold down a job and never had any money in her pocket. I think you’ve read about how I’ve moved nine times in as many years. And I think you’re wondering if I’m not just a bit too much like my mother and can’t quite be trusted to meet Cecily and that I might taint her in some way.”

She was close to the mark and he didn’t bother denying it. “I have to consider what’s best for Cecily.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You do. But you came to me. You came to me because Cecily has questions about where she came from. I understand that. I know what it is to have an empty space inside. When I was fifteen, I was manipulated into agreeing to a closed adoption—forfeiting any hope I ever had of finding my daughter. I wasn’t allowed to know anything about the people who had her. And then you show up with your nice smile and ultrapolite conversation and throw a few crumbs in my direction about the possibility of meeting my child.” She took a shuddering breath. “Whatever your opinion of me, Mr. Harper, I won’t be manipulated again or walked over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some time to consider what I want.”

Without another word, she turned and strode away from him and out through the door. Wyatt stared after her through the glass windows, watching the way her hair bounced as she walked, suddenly mesmerized by the stiffness in her shoulders and the gentle sway of her hips.

He only let out a breath once she got into her car and drove off. Wyatt grabbed the folder and closed it. Nothing in the report had prepared him for that exchange. He’d expected … what? That she’d be so grateful to reconnect with Cecily she wouldn’t put up any kind of resistance? That she’d be compliant and agreeable to everything he suggested or wanted? Right now he didn’t know what to think. Had he scared her off? Did she actually want to meet Cecily? Fiona Walsh had gumption and he liked that about her. She wasn’t a pushover. She was strong. He’d give her some time to settle into the idea, and then he knew he had to ask her straight out if she wanted to meet Cecily. Wyatt pulled his cell from his pocket. Glynis picked up on the third ring.

“Change of plans,” he said.

“Which means?” his assistant asked.

“Cancel my flight for tomorrow.”

There was a moment’s silence. “I see. Do I rebook?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Glynis tutted. “How long are you staying?”

Until I fix this. “I’m not sure,” he said and ended the call.

Fiona couldn’t drag herself to work the following morning and called in sick. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She did feel genuinely unwell. Her head ached. Her heart ached. She never took time off. She kept herself in good health and loved her teaching job.

I just can’t face all those happy little faces today.

She blamed Wyatt Harper for it, of course. Since he’d entered her life, she’d become an emotional mess. Crying … for Pete’s sake, she never cried. When she opened the front door to Callie that afternoon, it took all her strength to not collapse in a heap at the other woman’s feet.

“I was worried when the kids said you weren’t at school today,” she explained as she crossed through the door. “With good reason by the look of things.”

Fiona sniffed and pushed up the sleeves of her dressing gown. “I’m sick.”

Callie’s perfect brows rose sharply. “Try again. And this time include what it has to do with that tall drink of water you were talking with yesterday.”

Fiona hesitated for a microsecond. But this was Callie, her best friend and one of the few people she trusted, and the only person she’d told about her teenage pregnancy. “Remember how I told you I had baby when I was fifteen?”

Callie’s eyes popped wide. “Absolutely.”

Fiona quickly explained how she’d agreed to a closed adoption and who Wyatt Harper was.

“Are you sure he’s telling the truth?” Callie asked once they were settled on the sofa, each with a coffee cup between their hands.

“Yes. He has Cecily’s birth certificate and he says she looks just like me.”

Callie looked at her over the rim of her cup. “Did you ask to see a picture?”

Fiona shook her head. “No … I wasn’t sure I could bear seeing her photograph. In case I never get to see her for real. Does that make sense?”

Her friend nodded gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Fiona shrugged. “I’m not sure. That’s to say, I’m not sure what he’s going to do about it.”

“You have rights,” Callie said. “She’s your child.”

“A child I gave away. Wyatt Harper is the one with all the rights. He’s her legal guardian. He’s who her parents entrusted to care for her.”

“But you said she doesn’t live with him?”

“She lives mostly with her grandparents. But from what he said, I’m guessing they’re a close-knit bunch. He runs the family business, and his parents are retired, so they’d have more time to look after her. His younger sister lives there also.”

“Must be a big house.”

“It’s a hundred-acre property,” she explained. “His father runs a small herd of Wagyu cattle—his mother dabbles in showing orchids. They’re squeaky-clean and look like the perfect family.”

“And he’s what, thirtysomething and single and now a part-time parent to a teenage girl?” Callie rolled her big eyes. “Nothing is that perfect.”

“He seems like one of those annoyingly self-sufficient men who can handle everything. I’m sure one little teenager wouldn’t bring him down.”

Callie smiled. “He is very nice-looking. Not that you’d ever be swayed by a handsome face.”

“Er … no.”

“Maybe you should see a lawyer?” Callie suggested. “I mean, he hasn’t contacted you since yesterday—for all you know he’s gone back to Sydney.”

“I don’t think so. He wanted something and he didn’t get it. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who retreats easily, and I didn’t exactly leave him on friendly terms.” She smiled when she saw her friend’s look. “Yeah, I lost my temper.”

Callie’s expression softened. “So, how do you feel about it? I mean, how do you feel about reconnecting with your daughter after so long?”

Fiona sucked in some air. “Confused and shocked. I always had hope but I tried not to get swept away with the idea of meeting her one day. It was too painful. But now it’s a reality … and I’m scared. Because I’m still the person who gave her away.” She expelled a heavy breath. “What must she think of me?”

Callie made a reassuring sound. “You were young—not much older than she is now. She’ll understand once you explain. She’s come looking for you, Fiona. That’s a positive sign.”

Fiona hoped so. But she had doubts. Reservations. What if Cecily didn’t understand? What if all their reconnecting did was to upset her daughter? She didn’t want that. Cecily had lost her parents, and Fiona didn’t want to do anything that might add to her pain.

When her friend left about ten minutes later, Fiona, tired of looking like a washed-out rag, took a long shower. Once done, she finger-combed her hair, changed into comfy sweats and fed the dog. She had some assignments to grade and curled up on the sofa with her work and a fresh mug of coffee. She was about halfway through her pile of papers when Muffin started growling and rushed toward the front door after the bell rang.

When she pulled the door back, she found Wyatt Harper standing on the other side of the screen.

“Hello,” he said casually, belying the sudden awareness that swirled between them.

She stepped back on her heels and ignored the way her heart seemed to be beating a little faster than usual. “What do you want?”

He held up a bag. “Dinner.”

“I don’t think—”

“For three,” he said, cutting her off. “In case you have company.”

“I’m alone,” she said as her suspicions soared. “And I’m not hungry.”

He raised both brows. “Are you sure?”

Fiona fought the impulse to close the door. She didn’t want to be nice to him. But she wanted to know more about her daughter, and he was the key.

“You can come in.” She stood to the side and allowed him to cross the threshold.

He wore beige cargoes and a black golf shirt, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking him out. Okay, so the man had a nice body. She wasn’t a rock. She was a perfectly normal woman reacting to a good-looking man. She wasn’t about to beat herself up about it.

“Thank you,” he said and walked past her. “Where do you want this?” he asked as he motioned to the bag in his hand. “Chinese. A bit of everything because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“The kitchen,” she replied as she shut the door and then frowned as Muffin, the traitor, jumped up and down excitedly by Wyatt’s feet, demanding attention. “This way.”

He patted the dog for a moment before following her. When they reached the kitchen, Fiona stood on one side of the small square table and waited for him to take his place on the other side. She needed something between them.

She watched as he unloaded half a dozen small containers from the bag, then pulled out two sets of cutlery and a couple of serving spoons and grabbed two beers from the fridge. “Only light beer, I’m afraid.”

“No problem.”

Fiona placed everything on the table and scraped a chair across the tiled floor. “How did you know I’d be home tonight?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. I took a chance. It’s a school night … and I figured you’d stay in.”

Fiona pushed both beers toward him and he disposed of the caps quickly. “Actually, I didn’t work today.” When he didn’t respond, she explained. “I wasn’t much good for anything after our conversation yesterday.”

He pushed a beer back toward her. “That’s honest.”

“One of my many flaws,” she said and took a small sip. “I have plenty. I often blurt things out before I think about what I’m saying. And I have a bad temper.”

His blue eyes shone brilliantly. “Really?”

Fiona started opening the tops of the cartons and when she was done scooped a dumpling out of one of them with her fork. “Big surprise, huh?”

He grabbed a carton of noodles. “So, is there a boyfriend or significant other in the picture?”

She looked at him and colored beneath his penetrating stare. “Just me.”

“Good,” he said and piled food onto his fork. “More noodles for us.”

Fiona was tempted to smile. There was a casual, easygoing way about his mood and she liked it. Too much. She didn’t want to think about him that way. He was her ticket to her daughter, and she had to keep her head on straight. Imagining anything else was nonsensical.

“Wyatt …” She lingered over his name and discovered she liked the sound of it rolling around on her tongue. “What are you really doing here? I know it’s not to share Chinese food or inquire about my love life.”

He placed the fork on the small cardboard container. “I was concerned about you.”

Fiona’s skin tingled. “There’s no need to be,” she assured him. “I’m fine. I’m always fine.”

“So you’re fine?”

He was smiling at her, and Fiona experienced a strange dip low in her belly. Really low. She marshaled her wits. “So what have you decided to do about Cecily?”

He looked at her. “After our conversation yesterday, I thought it was more about what you wanted to do?”

I want to see her.

“I don’t really know,” she said instead. “I thought I did. I thought I knew how I’d react if this moment ever came. Instead I’m completely unprepared. In my mind, when I played this moment over and over, Cecily was an adult and came to find me on her own. Then I could have faced her as an adult. But she’s a child and I know I have to be the strong one … like I should know exactly how to respond and react. But I don’t,” she admitted. “Part of me is overjoyed. The other part …” She paused, waited and couldn’t believe she was exposing her most vulnerable thoughts. “The other part almost wishes you’d never come here.”

The air crackled as she waited for him to respond. “You are strong, Fiona. Anyone can see that. But I don’t want you to have any illusions,” he said directly. “Cecily wants this reunion—but she’s a kid and at the moment is caught up in the excitement of the prospect of reconnecting with her birth mother. Once the dust settles and the novelty passes, the questions will start. And perhaps the blame. Are you ready for that?”

No, I’m not. She knew what questions would come. But she wasn’t about to admit that to the man in front of her. “Are you saying I can see her? That you approve of me?”

Wyatt wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He’d read the investigator’s report and could easily come to the conclusion that Fiona Walsh was a good person. She was a schoolteacher and had friends in the small community. Was it enough? She seemed suitable to connect with Cecily. But he’d been wrong before. And he couldn’t be sure what Fiona intended, either, despite what she said. He knew what Cecily wanted, and that didn’t make the decision any easier. She was as headstrong as they came, particularly on this issue. But there was bound to be fallout—and he didn’t want his niece, his family or Fiona paying a heavy emotional price.

“I think … I think you’ll do what’s right for Cecily.”

“I will,” she said solemnly. “You have my word. My promise.” She stalled for a second and then spoke again. “What’s she like?”

“She’s terrific. Cecily’s a nice kid, but she doesn’t hold back. She says what she thinks, blurts out whatever is on her mind and has a temper to match her red hair.” His mouth flattened in a half smile. “Sound familiar?”

She nodded, and Wyatt saw her eyes shining just a little bit more than usual. “Do you have a picture?”

“Of Cecily? Yes,” he said and took out his smartphone. He pressed a couple of buttons and passed it to her.

Silence stretched between them. Food and beer were forgotten. She blinked a few times and drew in a deep breath as she stared at the picture on the small screen. The resemblance between them was unmistakable, and Wyatt knew that seeing her daughter’s image for the first time was difficult for her.

“Thank you,” she said and pushed the phone across the table. “Can you send me a copy of that?”

“Sure.” Wyatt popped it back into his pocket. “Have you any questions?”

“Hundreds.”

He grinned and reclaimed his fork. “Fire away.”

“Does she like school?”

“Yes. She’s a good student.”

“She has friends?”

“More than I could count.”

She nodded. “Is she happy?”

“Most of the time. She struggled after Karen and Jim died. But with a lot of love and support, she pulled through. She’s strong, gutsy.” Wyatt watched Fiona’s eyes shadow with a hazy kind of sadness. It twisted something inside his chest. Made him want to offer … what? Comfort? Get a grip. “She’s a lot like you.”

Fiona laughed. Brittle. Uncertain. “I’m not gutsy.”

“I’ve read the file, remember?” he said and then wondered if mentioning it was wise. She didn’t react and he decided to push deeper. “Why have you moved around so much?”

“Habit.”

Wyatt’s brows shot up. “That’s not it. Tell me why.”

She speared another dumpling and slid the carton across the table. “Looking for roots, I guess.”

“Did you find them?”

She ate the dumpling, and when she licked her lips, his heart smashed in his chest. I definitely have to stop looking at her mouth.

“I found Callie and Evie, my two best friends,” she explained. “And I like this town. I enjoy my job and my little house.” She glanced around the room. “Plus I can have Titan nearby.”

“So, no boyfriend?”

Her lips curled up. “Didn’t we cover that already? I’m single.”

“Happily?”

She stopped tossing her fork through a carton of spicy chicken. “Who’s happy about being alone?”

She had a point. Although since he’d broken up with Yvette, Wyatt hadn’t wanted to pursue anything serious with anyone. He’d dated one woman since then, and that had faded before it had really begun. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry to lay his heart on the line again. He doubted he ever would be. “Better to be unhappy alone than miserable with someone else.”

“Spoken from experience?” she asked.

He shrugged the question off. “Old news.”

She swapped cartons. “You know things about me. It’s only fair for you to share a little, don’t you think?”

Wyatt grabbed the spicy chicken, took a bite and then washed it down with the beer. “I was engaged. It didn’t work out.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked. “Being with someone, I mean? Just belonging, having somebody to talk with, having someone who gets you?”

“My relationship with my ex-fiancée wasn’t that romantic.”

She frowned. “But you loved her?”

Nothing he said was going to get him away from Fiona’s inquisitive gaze. “I guess.”

He knew it didn’t sound all that convincing. But he wasn’t convinced he actually had loved Yvette. There’d been attraction and a certain compatibility, sure … but love? It was a nice idea, but did it really exist?

“Did a number on you, did she?”

Pretty, smart and intuitive. “You could say that.”

“At least you’ve had the courage to try,” she said in between a mouthful of noodles.

“Have you ever been close?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m always the best friend.”

“What?”

She smiled. “You know, the best friend. There’s the girl who always gets the guy … and then there’s the ever-faithful best friend standing on the sidelines. That’s me.”

The best friend. Who was she kidding? She made herself sound about as exciting as an old shoe. Ridiculous. When he could feel the vibration of her through to his blood. Her skin was as clear as a camellia flower, and that hair … He suddenly had a startling image of it trailing across his chest.

Wyatt cleared his throat and drank some beer. “I suppose we should talk about Cecily.”

She looked up. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he replied, choosing his words. “Before I agree to anything, I need to know if you really want to connect with her. Or if you feel ambivalent or like you have no other choice because it’s what Cecily wants. If that’s the case, believe me, I’ll leave tomorrow and you’ll never hear from me again until you’re ready to make the next move.”

Panic quickly filled her eyes. “No … don’t do that.”

Wyatt didn’t respond. He waited. She had to make a decision. There were no acceptable half measures. Fiona Walsh was either in or out.

“I want …” She stopped, paused, took a long breath. He waited some more for her to speak again. “I do want this,” she said finally, and Wyatt didn’t miss the way her eyes glistened. “I want a chance to explain why I gave her up.”

“And the hard questions?” he shot back. “Because she’s going to ask them and you need to be ready.”

“I will be.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure. Something was amiss; he felt it through to his bones. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He pushed the food aside. “Fiona, about Cecily’s father—I think there are things you’re not saying.”

She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. “There’s nothing. He’s dead. He can never hurt her.”

Wyatt immediately picked up on her words. “Did he hurt you?”

Fiona’s eyes fluttered. “I didn’t mean that. I meant … I meant he’s dead and won’t ever be a part of her life.”

“And that’s all?”

She nodded. “That’s all.”

Caution rattled around in his head, but he stopped the interrogation. “Okay, I’ll talk with Cecily when I get home. We’ll work something out. Cecily’s welfare is my priority, so you understand that any initial contact will be supervised?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’d like to write her a letter, if that’s okay with you. There are some things I’d like to say to her, and I think a letter might be a good way to start. I’ll understand if you need to read it before she does.”

Her lips glistened and looked delicious, and Wyatt’s libido took serious notice. “Sure. I’ll text you my address.” He pushed the beer aside. “I should probably be going. I have an early flight in the morning.”

She stood up, and he lingered for a moment before he got to his feet. Suddenly, leaving didn’t seem like such a great idea. Stunned to realize how much he enjoyed her company and wanted more of it, Wyatt remained by the table and stared at her. The air between them grew thicker, hotter, as though some kind of seductive force had blown into the room.

She was closer now, barely a couple feet away. Close enough to touch if he reached for her. His fingertips tingled at the thought.

“Are you all right?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“I’m just …” He stopped. I’m just thinking about kissing you. “Nothing.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket and rattled them. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Thank you for dinner.”

“No problem. I’ll be in touch.”

She smiled. “Well, good night.”

“Good night, Fiona,” Wyatt said and got out of there as quickly as he could before he forgot all the reasons why he shouldn’t be attracted to her and did something really stupid.

Chapter Three

“So, what’s she like?”

Wyatt had barely walked into the main house at Waradoon late the following afternoon when his mother corralled him with the question. He dropped his keys on the hall stand. “She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Janet Harper’s silvery brows rose swiftly. “That’s all?”

In no mood for the third degree, Wyatt uncharacteristically ignored his mother and headed for the big kitchen at the rear of the house. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and tossed the lid in the trash.

“Yeah … nice,” he said when he spotted his mother ten feet behind him, with her hands firmly on her hips.

“Have you agreed for her to meet Cecily?”

It hadn’t been a difficult decision. He instinctively knew Fiona was a good person. Despite also knowing she was holding something back, his concerns were minimal. It was unrealistic to think she’d simply lay her life open because he wanted answers. He could wait. In time he’d know everything about her. He’d make sure of it. “Eventually. Once I’ve talked with Cecily about it.”

“She’ll be home from her riding lesson soon. And full of questions. She’s almost jumping out of her skin over this.” Janet’s voice dropped an octave. “I hope this woman doesn’t—”

“She has a name,” he said quietly. “And don’t stress—you’ll like Fiona.”

Wyatt wished he didn’t like her as much as he did. He’d spent the past twenty-four hours thinking of little else.

And the fact I wanted to kiss her last night.

“Fiona,” his mother echoed, and he quickly got his thoughts back on track. “Yes. And she’s nice. So you keep saying.”

Wyatt frowned. His mother had way too much intuition for his liking. “Stop smiling.”

“I trust your judgment,” she said and sat at the long table. “If you say she’s nice, I’m sure she’s exactly that. You’ll do what’s right for Cecily and the family. You always do.”

Did he? He certainly hadn’t when he’d jumped into his relationship with Yvette. He’d invited her into his family and paid the price. But Wyatt understood the meaning of his mother’s words. He had every intention of ensuring Cecily’s well-being. And he wanted to protect Fiona, too. As for the family, they were all curious about Cecily’s birth mother, especially his sisters. He certainly wasn’t about to unleash them on an unsuspecting Fiona.

“Uncle Wyatt! You’re here!”

Cecily stood in the doorway dressed in her riding garb, and he was amazed how much she looked like her mother. Not her mother. That was Karen. Her birth mother.

She raced across the room and landed against him with a resounding thud.

He hugged her tightly. “Hey, kid, good to see you.”

“You, too,” she said on a rushed breath. “So, tell me everything. Did you see her, did you talk to her, does she want to meet me?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

Cecily’s eyes filled with moisture. “Really? I can meet her. I can talk to her?”

Wyatt nodded. He knew Cecily was eager, but he also knew he needed to show caution and get her to take things slowly. “She’s going to write to you. Once she’s done that, you can make up your mind about what you want to do.”

Cecily pulled back and straightened her shoulders. “I already know what I want, Uncle Wyatt. I want to meet her. And soon.”

She gave a determined sniff and left the room to change and attend to her homework.

“I told you she was keen.”

Cecily wanted to meet her birth mother. Fiona wanted to reconnect with the child she’d given up. If it worked out, everyone would be happy. But if not, Wyatt could see the potential for disaster.

“You know,” his mother said in that way that meant he was supposed to listen, “you could take some time off and take Cecily to see her. It might be easier for Cecily to meet her birth mother away from Waradoon. I’m sure Miss Walsh would feel overwhelmed to come here with all of us hanging around, if that’s what you were planning.”

He wasn’t planning anything. The logistics had been on the back burner. But bring her to Waradoon? Wyatt’s focus had been on getting to know Fiona before he made any decisions.

And now that I know her, I can’t get her out of my mind ….

He paid his mother attention again. “You mean take Cecily to Crystal Point?”

“Why not? How long has it been since you’ve taken a vacation? And you know how Cecily loves the beach.” Janet raised her brows. “It might do you some good, too.”

He didn’t miss the dig. “I don’t need a vacation.”

She clearly didn’t agree and pulled no punches in telling him so. “Your father had his first heart attack when he was forty-two because he worked too hard. I don’t want to see that happen to you. There’s more to life than Harper Engineering.”

Wyatt knew what was coming. He needed a life. He needed a wife. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“The business will be—”

“Fine,” she assured him. “Alessio will be there,” she said of his brother-in-law and right-hand man. “Take a few weeks and—”

“A few weeks?” Wyatt stared at his mother. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” she said and smiled. “School breaks up soon for two weeks. I don’t think pulling Cecily out of classes for an extra week would hurt her.”

A few weeks in Crystal Point? Cecily would jump at the opportunity, he was sure. And Fiona … would she agreed to whatever he suggested if it meant having the chance to reconnect with her daughter?

I’m just not sure I should be spending three weeks around Fiona Walsh.

But other than sending Cecily to Crystal Point alone, which he would never do, or invite Fiona to Waradoon, which he wasn’t sure she’d agree to, what option did he have?

“So it’s all arranged?” Fiona asked her friend Evie Dunn.

“Yep,” Evie replied. “They’re booked to arrive on Saturday and are staying for nearly three weeks.” Evie’s black brows rose sharply. “You know, I’ve told you this at least four times already.”

She knew that. But she wanted to hear it again. And again. Her daughter was coming to meet her. My daughter is coming here.

The reality was both exciting and terrifying.

Cecily had read the letter Fiona had sent via her uncle and had quickly replied with an email, including photographs, and Fiona had choked back tears as she’d read her daughter’s words. They’d been heartfelt and full of courage.

Fiona found herself holding her breath. “I know … just checking.”

“Good thing we had that cancellation,” Evie said.

Evie’s bed-and-breakfast, Dunn Inn, was a popular retreat in the small town and usually had full occupancy. The cancellation of guests meant that two rooms were available, and Fiona couldn’t have been happier.

“You’re gonna be loco by the time they get here,” Callie said and passed Fiona a drink. It was Friday night and the art class in Evie’s studio was over. Two other participants had bailed ten minutes earlier, and it left Fiona sharing a drink with Callie, Evie and Evie’s younger sister, Mary-Jayne Preston. They liked to think of it as Friday night cocktails, but with Evie only three months away from having a baby, they made do with peach iced tea instead of alcohol. Only Mary-Jayne, or M.J. as she was called, complained. Fiona was happy to keep her mind buzzing.

“So, he’s hot? The uncle?” M.J. asked in her usual boots-and-all manner.

“Yep. Hotter than Hades.” It was Callie, who was married to Evie and M. J.’s older brother, Noah, who replied. “The original tall, dark and handsome.”

Fiona sipped her tea. She wasn’t going to think about Wyatt. Definitely not.

“And single?” M. J.’s eyes popped wide. “From a wealthy family and running a successful business? Interesting.”

Fiona pushed aside the niggling resentment forming in her blood. It shouldn’t matter to her that another woman might find Wyatt attractive … but it did. If she dared summon the courage, she would admit the truth—that she was nervous about seeing him again.

He’d emailed her with details of their upcoming visit, and Fiona knew she’d read, and then reread, each of his messages more times than was sensible. But Wyatt was hard to ignore, even through something as bland as an email or text message. Of course, there was nothing even remotely personal in his messages. They were only about Cecily. Which was what she wanted, right?

His indifference gave her the opportunity to focus on her daughter. She learned about Cecily’s school, her friends, her beloved horse, Banjo, and the family who clearly adored her. Talking with her daughter seemed so natural and not awkward, like she had imagined for so many years.

Awkward she saved for Wyatt. And the stretched nerves she took with herself everywhere she went—she saved them for him, too. And the fluttering in her belly whenever she thought about his blue eyes and perfectly sexy smile.

“Earth to Fiona?”

She snapped her thoughts back to the moment and discovered her three friends staring at her with raised brows and widened eyes. “I was thinking about Cecily,” she said and took a drink.

“You sighed,” M.J. told her. “Loudly.”

“I cleared my throat,” she said in defense. “So, who’s up for more iced tea?”

Callie checked her watch. “Count me out. I have to get going. I promised Noah I’d be home early.”

Fiona didn’t miss the dreamy look on her friend’s face. Callie adored her husband and four stepchildren. And with a pregnant Evie soon to marry Callie’s younger brother, Scott, the two families were now intimately linked. Sometimes, when she watched them interact and observed the friendly rivalry and obvious affection the siblings felt for one another, Fiona experienced a sharp pain in her chest.

She’d never known family. Her great-uncle Leonard had done his best to provide her with a safe home after her mother dumped her on his doorstep, but he’d been a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor with old-fashioned morals and hadn’t known how to handle a pregnant and emotionally fraught fifteen-year-old girl. He kept her fed and clothed and gave her a place to live—in his mind that was enough.

There had been no question about her keeping the baby.

The deal was done before she’d gone into labor. A married couple was taking her baby—that was all Fiona was told. The adoption would be closed. She could never contact her child.

But now I have my daughter back ….

Well, she had a chance at least.

But she knew there were going to be challenging times ahead. Cecily would have questions, and she still wasn’t sure how she would answer them. And Wyatt? She knew he’d be watching her every move and trying to discover her secrets. But even knowing that, Fiona held a seed of optimism in her heart. And when she returned to her empty little house a short while later, Fiona didn’t feel half the loneliness that normally weighed down her shoulders when she opened the front door. She felt … hope.

Purple. Or as the woman behind him said in a chirpy tone, lavender. Wyatt had never been in a room that was so pretty. As he dumped his bag by the foot of the bed, the hostess told him the room was usually used by honeymooners and couples. Cecily was happily entrenched in the smaller room next door, a much more appealing space decorated in beige and white. This was too much.

The big bed was strewn with more pillows than he’d ever seen. He couldn’t sleep in here, surrounded by flowers and purple cushions. And what the hell was the scent hitting his nose like a boxing glove every time he moved … potpourri?

“So, I’ll let you settle in,” Evie Dunn said cheerfully.

Wyatt didn’t have a chance to object. The woman walked out of the room, and seconds later Cecily bounded through the door.

She wrinkled her nose. “Uncle Wyatt, it smells like a perfume shop in here.”

That did it. “Let’s switch rooms.”

“My allergies,” she protested. “And I’ve already unpacked.”

Yeah, her three cases. One for every week they were staying in Crystal Point.

“Right, allergies.” He forgot about the sickly sweet room for a moment. “Are you ready to go?”

Cecily nodded. “Yep. I don’t know why we couldn’t meet here?”

“The hotel is better,” he said quietly. Neutral. It was what Fiona wanted.

“But Evie said we could use the front living room, and I—”

“You know the deal. Let’s go,” he said, gently cutting her off. Sometimes Cecily’s exuberance was exhausting.

“Do you think she’ll like me? Do you think she’ll be disappointed?” Cecily popped out questions at a million miles per hour. “What if she—”

“Cecily—relax. She’ll like you,” he assured his niece. “I promise. And where’s all this sudden anxiety coming from anyway? You’ve been talking on the phone and by email for two weeks now.”

“But this is face-to-face,” she said in a rush of breath. “And that’s way different.”

Yeah … way different. The tension knocking inside his chest was inexplicable. He didn’t ever get like this. But thinking about Fiona Walsh stirred his blood. And considering the circumstances, Wyatt knew it was out of the question to be attracted to her. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by Fiona’s pretty face and lovely curves. He’d been swept away by physical attraction before. He wasn’t about to make that same mistake again.

He only had to look at Cecily to know he had to keep his head on straight.

“You’re going to be a hit. Trust me.”

“I do, Uncle Wyatt,” she said and hugged him. “I want it all to work out so much. I want Fiona to like me, and I want to like her back, too.”

“I’m sure you will,” he assured her. “She’s nice.”

Cecily shrugged. “Well, she seems nice. But you never really know what someone is like at first.”

Wyatt heard the waver in his niece’s voice. “Cecily, are you having doubts about this?”

She quickly shook her head. “No … just nerves, I guess.”

He didn’t doubt Fiona would be feeling the same apprehension. “We can go home anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she replied. “Not yet. I want to try and see if we can be … I dunno … friends maybe.”

Wyatt admired Cecily’s maturity. But he’d make sure he was on hand if the pressure became too much for her young shoulders. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

He herded her out of the bedroom and down the hall. The drive into town took fifteen minutes, and by the time he parked the rental car and took the lift from the basement car park, they were only a few minutes away from their meeting time.

He settled Cecily in the foyer, on the same leather sofa where he’d met with Fiona a couple of weeks earlier. The place was quiet, and he was glad they’d have privacy and not be crowded out by the familiar faces of Fiona’s friends, like at the B and B.

“Uncle Wyatt?”

He shifted his attention back to the moment. “Yeah, kid?”

Cecily’s voice dripped with anticipation. “Is that her?”

He turned, and sure enough, Fiona was walking through the hotel doors. He hadn’t forgotten how pretty she was, and seeing her again only confirmed that the sensation rumbling through his chest was attraction. She wore a green dress and her strawberry blond hair flowed loose around her shoulders. Lovely.

When she came toward them, his blood seemed to stop pumping in his veins. She stood before them, all eyes and expectation as she looked at Cecily, then him, then Cecily again.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Wyatt answered quietly. “Hello, Fiona.”

This is one of those moments, he thought, when worlds collide. Fiona’s world, his world, now forever joined by the young girl who stood by his side, stepping back and forth nervously on her heels.

“Hello, Cecily.”

His niece took a moment, as though unsure about speaking to the woman who had given her life. Wyatt knew she wasn’t really scared. Cecily wanted this. And Fiona … he made out caution and uncertainty and plain old happiness in her blue-gray eyes. It was uncanny how alike they were. Same hair, same complexion, same spirited temper.

“Um … hi,” Cecily said quietly. “Thanks for coming.”

Fiona stepped a little closer, and Wyatt wished he could harness all his strength for a second and give it to her, so this moment could pass easily between them.

“I’m really glad you wanted to meet me … and … found me,” Fiona said a little uncomfortably.

“Well, it was Uncle Wyatt who actually found you,” Cecily replied with a small smile.

Fiona looked at him, and the tightness in his chest expanded.

“I know he did,” she said, then faltered a little before she spoke again. “So, how was your trip?”

“Good,” Cecily replied. “Uncle Wyatt let me have the window seat.”

Fiona laughed softly, and the sound vibrated through him. She looked nervous, and he discreetly touched Cecily’s arm, urging her forward. It was awkward for a moment, until Fiona smiled again and opened her arms slightly. Cecily stepped forward, and within seconds mother and daughter were together, hugging close, clearly emotional. Wyatt watched their exchange and swallowed the lump tightening his throat.

Fiona looked at him over Cecily’s shoulder and smiled. Tears hung on her lashes and her eyes grew huge. Seeing her so vulnerable, so raw with joy and glowing with a kind of radiant happiness, made his insides hurt. Cecily was crying, too. There was no sadness, no regret. Just new feelings, new dreams, new hope.

And he knew instinctively he’d made the right decision in coming to Crystal Point. It was right for Cecily to meet her birth mother. All he had to do was get a handle on the growing attraction he had for Fiona.

Easy … yeah … right.

Fiona experienced such acute and all-consuming love as she held her daughter in her arms for only the second time in her life. Images of the baby cruelly snatched away within minutes of her birth, which up until this moment were the only memories she had, suddenly faded.

She looks like me ….

Wyatt was right.

Wyatt …

Her heart rolled over as she looked at him. So tall and strong and handsome. It seemed right having him near. It gave her strength knowing he was only steps away. His closeness gave her courage to hold on to Cecily and let all her pent-up feelings rise to the surface.

“Let’s sit down,” she suggested and linked her arm through her daughter’s.

“Why don’t I leave you two alone for a while?” Wyatt said once they reached the sofa.

Fiona watched as Cecily stepped toward him. “No … don’t go.”

He sent his niece a peculiar look and then glanced toward Fiona. Something shimmered between them, and Fiona suddenly longed for his reassurance. And Cecily clearly wanted him on hand. “Cecily’s right,” she said and tried not to be wounded by the fact her daughter was unsure about being alone with her. “I’d like you to stay for a while, too.” She looked at Cecily. “Okay?”

Cecily nodded. “Yes. Uncle Wyatt’s cool.”

Fiona didn’t miss the affection in Cecily’s words. She was undoubtedly attached to her uncle, who had taken over the role of parent. “I’m sure he is.”

He grinned fractionally and sat down on the other sofa. Fiona relaxed and turned all her attention to the girl sitting beside her. Cecily was remarkable, and pride, pure and simple, surged through her blood and across her skin.

This is my daughter … my child … I made this exquisite creature.

Whatever happened from this moment, Fiona knew she would treasure the memory of Cecily’s small hand clasped within hers. Regret and shame tapped at the back of her mind, but she wasn’t about to let those kinds of thoughts invade the precious moment she was sharing with her daughter.

They talked for an hour, about everyday things. Cecily asked when she could see where Fiona lived and when she could visit Titan. They talked about their dogs and Cecily’s friends.

“Nan and Pop are great,” she said excitedly. “I can’t wait for you to meet them. Auntie Rae knows everything about horses, and Auntie Ellen is so good with kids. She’s got twins and they’re really cute. She lets me help with them when I stay with her and Uncle Alessio. He’s Italian. And his family is superrich. Not that she married him for his money. He’s really good-looking, too.”

Fiona waited for Cecily to take a breath and stole a glance at Wyatt. He was smiling, silent and intense as he regarded them.

“If it’s okay with your uncle, maybe we could go see Titan this afternoon?”

“Can we, please?” Cecily begged Wyatt as she got to her feet.

He nodded. “If you like.”

“I’ll go get my boots,” her daughter said eagerly. “They’re in the car. I’ll be back in a minute,” she said once Wyatt handed over the car keys.

She left the foyer like a whirlwind and headed for the elevators.

Once she was out of sight, Fiona looked at Wyatt. “She’s incredible.”

“She certainly is,” he agreed. “A pocket dynamo. But adorable.”

“She loves her family a lot,” Fiona said without envy and ridiculously conscious of his powerful stare. “And you especially.”

“It’s mutual,” he replied. “She’s a great kid.”

She looked toward her feet. “I guess she’ll have a lot of questions?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “But she probably won’t ask them straightaway. She doesn’t want to scare you off.”

Her gaze darted upward. “I don’t scare easily.”

“Are you sure?”

His mouth twisted in such a sexy way Fiona’s breath rushed out. “Positive,” she replied and wondered if they were still talking about Cecily. The air seemed uncommonly warm.

“Cecily is smart and mature for her age. She’s had to be,” he said quietly, and Fiona picked up on the strain in his voice. “She wants you in her life—although in what capacity I’m not sure. I don’t think she quite knows herself. Meeting you is the first step. From here it’s up to you both to work out what kind of relationship you’ll have.”

“With you standing on point to make sure I don’t mess it up?”

He shrugged. “My job is to protect her. Karen trusted me with that responsibility, and I’ll do it as best I can.”

Fiona wrapped her arms around her waist and sat forward. “I won’t screw this up. And I’ll be whatever she needs me to be. There’s no question about me trying to replace her mother. But I can be her friend.”

“Yes, you can.”

She let out a breath and experienced a heady warmth deep in her belly. There was something in his expression that heightened her awareness of him on every level. It was futile to deny it—Fiona got a look from his glittering blue eyes that said he was as aware of her as she was of him.

She pushed some words out. “So, I guess considering you’re her legal guardian, we should be friends, too.”

Another look … longer, hotter. Hot enough to raise her temperature a degree or two.

“Logically. But I get the sense that whatever’s going on here,” he said, flicking a hand in the air, “hasn’t got anything to do with friendship.”

“I don’t think—”

“And everything to do with sex.”

Chapter Four

Not one usually lost for words, Fiona stared at him. Of course, it was the truth. But put out there, it sounded dangerous. Dangerous because she wanted to focus every ounce of her attention on her child.

Falling in lust, or anything else, was absolutely out of the question.

“Cecily is …”

“Our priority,” he said, finishing her sentence. “Exactly. The last thing we should do is complicate that.”

“I agree.”

“So, whatever this is, we’ll ignore it?”

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