“Are you trying to convince me of something?” he asked roughly.

“No. I’ve just told you how I feel.”

“Maybe I should show you what I’m feeling.” He gave her a few moments to run. She knew he expected her to run.

But she held steadfast. “What are you feeling, Clay?”

His arms circled her, his lips came down on hers, and her breath became trapped in her chest along with the knowledge that he was trying to prove a point. She was unclear about that point, though, as his lips sealed to hers…as she kissed him back, bringing her hands to his shoulders, gripping him tightly so her knees wouldn’t buckle.

Dear Reader,

At my high-school reunion, I reconnected with women I’d once confided in as we attended classes and dances and shared dreams. Guys who’d once seemed unapproachable were now easy to converse with. Time and experience seemed to have given most of us a kinder perspective. That reunion gave me the idea for my REUNION BRIDES miniseries.

High-school classmates Celeste, Jenny and Mikala have stayed in touch. In His Daughter … Their Child, Celeste’s friends watch as a spark ignites between her and Clay Sullivan at the reunion. Once a surrogate for Clay and her twin sister, Celeste is now determined to become a mother to the child her sister abandoned. Will attraction between Clay and Celeste ruin that possibility or give it wings?

Of course, I will be writing romances for Jenny and Mikala, too. Readers can follow my progress on my fan page at Facebook and visit my website at www.karenrosesmith.com for updates and excerpts.

Have a wonderful, romance-filled year.

All my best,

Karen Rose Smith

About the Author

KAREN ROSE SMITH is the award-winning, best-selling novelist of over seventy published romances. Her latest miniseries, REUNION BRIDES, is set near Flagstaff, Arizona in Miners Bluff, the fictional town she created. After visiting Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon and Sedona, Karen thought the scenery was so awe-inspiring that she had to set books there. When not writing, she likes to garden, growing herbs, vegetables and flowers. She lives with her husband—her college sweetheart—and their two cats in Pennsylvania. Readers may e-mail her through her website at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.

His Daughter … Their Child

Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Mike and M. R.

Thanks for the inspiration

Chapter One

Clay Sullivan strode into the cafeteria of his old high school. He hadn’t even wanted to come to his fifteen-year reunion, yet he knew the confrontation he was going to have with Celeste Wells tonight was inevitable.

He hardly noticed the blue and yellow streamers that zigzagged across the ceiling, and ignored the classmates mingling and huddling around their old yearbooks. Catching sight of Celeste talking with a group of friends, a feeling of dread pulled tight across his chest.

Celeste rose when she saw him. Her light brown hair shimmered with highlights from the summer sun. The strapless white dress with pastel flowers decorating the full skirt showed off her creamy shoulders to perfection. She looked like his ex-wife—her fraternal twin sister—and at first glance he’d almost mistaken her for Zoie.

That was one mistake he couldn’t afford to make.

“How are you?” Celeste asked as he approached her table. Her wide green eyes showed compassion. Was that an act? Like the one Zoie had put on for so long?

“I’m here because you emailed that you wanted to see me,” he responded, his voice gruff. “How long are you staying in Miners Bluff? Just tonight? Through the weekend?”

Celeste’s cheeks flushed as she seemed to think over what she wanted to say.

Before she could answer him, music began to play at the other side of the room.

Celeste asked hopefully, “Do you want to go somewhere else and talk?”

He intended to keep this short and sweet. He didn’t want to give Celeste an inch. He thought about his three-and-a-half-year-old daughter at home in her pj’s, playing with her dollhouse. Abby was the sole reason he got up each morning. She was the last person he thought of before he went to sleep each night. Zoie had signed away her rights, and he had sole custody. That was the way it was going to stay.

“We can talk here. I don’t think anyone’s going to interrupt us.” Not with the tension buzzing around them like a force field ready to singe anyone who came too close.

Celeste had always been the quiet, understated twin—in the way she dressed, the way she moved and the way she spoke. But now he saw something new come over her … something that put fire in those green eyes and a determined set to her pretty mouth.

She took a step closer to him, and the scent of honeysuckle titillated his senses. He wondered crazily if his large hands would span her slim waist. He stopped the thought before it had a chance to tickle his libido.

“Have you heard from Zoie recently?” she asked in a low voice.

He caught the note of worry and felt his heart soften a bit.

“Not since she signed the divorce papers a year ago. The last I heard she was traveling through France.”

“You mean she hasn’t contacted you at all about Abby?” Celeste sounded shocked, and he had to wonder if she really knew her sister.

“Are you so surprised? She’s wanted to escape responsibility for a long time.”

Celeste clasped his forearm in obvious sympathy and said softly, “Clay.”

He felt unexpected heat on his skin, and he pulled away, startled by it. He and Celeste had never been more than friends. He shouldn’t feel heat where she was concerned. “It’s over, Celeste. I should have realized that before we had Abby.”

He wanted to walk away, go back to his house in the foothills of Moonshadow Mountain where he could wall out everything but his daughter. Yet he couldn’t look away from the compassion in Celeste’s eyes. He couldn’t look away from the understanding only she could have because she knew his history with Zoie from the beginning to the end—and she had played her own role in their drama.

Suddenly the music from the speakers blared louder. The DJ called, “Everybody find a partner.”

Jenny Farber, one of the women Celeste had been conversing with when he’d walked in, came up to them and tapped both of their shoulders. “Come on, you two. Join in.”

Clay had heard Jenny had helped organize this reunion. She was the manager of the Rocky D, a big spread outside of the town limits. He used their horses for his wilderness excursions. He liked Jenny and knew she was trying to lighten up the atmosphere between him and Celeste. But he doubted if anything could do that.

“Come on,” Jenny encouraged them again. “It’s nineties music at its best.”

Maybe dancing with Celeste would throw her off her game … would divert her attention … would transport them into small talk instead of conversation about her and Abby.

“Do you want to dance?” he suggested. Yet as soon as he asked, the thought of holding Celeste in his arms made his gut clench. What had he gotten himself into?

As Celeste gazed at Clay’s ruggedly chiseled face, his unruly dark brown hair, her stomach almost did backflips. He’d never known it, but he’d been her one and only crush until her extroverted sister had swept him away. Celeste hadn’t had a chance. She’d made peace with that fact a long time ago. But tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about her future with Abby.

“Sure, I’ll dance with you,” she answered, her heart racing because so much was on the line tonight.

When Clay’s arm went around her, she felt as awkward as a teenager and wondered what was going through his head. Was he remembering the hikes they’d taken on Moonshadow Mountain before he’d dated Zoie? What about the after-school gatherings when chocolate milk was the beverage of choice? Even then, though, the zing had been between him and Zoie, and Celeste hadn’t known how to make him really look at her.

He left enough space between them so she could look up and study his expression. But his steady gray eyes told her nothing. Tall and muscled, yet lean, his body so close to hers caused her throat to tighten and her mouth to go dry. Ever since Zoie’s departure, Celeste had waited and waited and waited for a signal from Clay that he was ready for her to be a part of his daughter’s life. But he hadn’t given her one. So she’d planned to use this reunion as a stepping-stone to get to know the little girl.

“Who’s with Abby tonight?” Celeste asked, hoping fireworks wouldn’t erupt at that question.

“My mom.”

That was a surprise. Violet Sullivan was a society matron, and the way she’d felt about Zoie, Celeste had been afraid she wouldn’t take her granddaughter under her wing.

“Does she babysit often?”

“She watches Abby while I work.”

Celeste apparently couldn’t keep her surprise from showing because Clay added, “After Zoie left, she stepped right in. She said those young babysitters Zoie used didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a child.”

It was hard for Celeste to imagine Clay’s mother as cuddly and warm. She’d always seemed so forbidding and proper, so against Clay’s dating Zoie and hanging around with Celeste because they were from the wrong side of the tracks.

Silence fell over them as the music swelled, bringing back memories of high school dances, a ride home in Clay’s car before he and Zoie left to spend time together, hours listening to music on her Walkman in her and Zoie’s small bedroom above the bar where their mother worked.

Clay’s arm tightened as a couple brushed past them. The dance floor seemed to shrink until there was just the two of them. Her breath caught and she knew she should push away. But the scent of Clay’s cologne, the feel of his body against hers, created sensations she hadn’t felt—hadn’t let herself feel—for a very long time.

Clay’s stubbled jaw tensed, and she expected him to put more space between them again, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Are you still working for that graphic design firm in Phoenix?”

Work. That should be easy to talk about. “No. I went out on my own and have a client list now. I create websites for businesses. Do you need one?” she asked teasingly.

“I’ve always been busy enough with word of mouth and ads in the right places that I didn’t have to worry about that.” He was a tour guide who led excursions around the area traveling mostly to nearby Flagstaff, north to the Grand Canyon, and south to Sedona. Miners Bluff, too, pulled in its share of sightseers who were curious about this former copper-mining town.

She guessed he wanted to lead the conversation away from Abby. But she wanted to dive right in while they were face-to-face. “Designing websites makes me portable. I can do it from anywhere. I don’t have to live in Phoenix.”

“Celeste …”

She heard the warning note in Clay’s voice and knew she couldn’t postpone the reason she’d come to the reunion any longer. “I want to see Abby. I want to spend time with her.”

Clay’s booted feet stopped moving for a moment.

They were still in the midst of dancing couples. Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste barely registered Mikala Conti dancing with Dawson Barrett, Riley O’Rourke smiling down at Brenna McDougall, Chief of Police Noah Stone leaning against the wall, watching them all.

After what seemed like eons—during which Celeste didn’t know if Clay was going to break away or resume dancing—his hand tightened on hers, and he guided her away from the other dancers to a shadowed corner which, for the time being, was empty of classmates.

There he confronted her. “What do you want?”

The protective fierceness on his face should have scared her, but it didn’t. This was Clay, the boy she’d known in high school, the young man who’d married her sister, the adult who had taken Zoie back after an affair, who’d tried to save his marriage by starting a family.

“I want to get to know Abby. I’d like to be a part of her life.”

It was obvious Clay was greatly troubled by that idea and she suspected why.

She realized she had to give Clay a few minutes to think about her request. As they stood there close, yet not touching, she realized her attraction to Clay that had begun in high school had never gone away. She’d buried it as far down into her heart as she could. She’d never for a minute considered it would rise up to bite her now when she least expected it … now when she wanted Abby to be her only concern.

Finally Clay broke the silence between them. “All right.” He checked his watch. “Abby might still be up. Why don’t you come see that she’s safe and loved? Then you can go back to Phoenix.”

He was purposely misunderstanding what she wanted, which was to see Abby regularly. But she wasn’t going to propose that now when he was giving her this opening.

“Let’s go,” she said before Clay could change his mind.

Clay was aware of the swish of Celeste’s skirt as she preceded him up the lit walk to his house, a log home nestled among Douglas firs and aspen. He must have been certifiably crazy to ask her back here. Holding her in his arms, something had happened to him. Maybe because he hadn’t been with a woman since before his separation and divorce, his body had responded to her. Whatever the reason, he’d felt an arousal he hadn’t wanted to feel.

Perhaps she’d leave after this visit and his life would go back to the normal he was trying so hard to find.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” she said with an almost shy smile as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

The motion caused her shawl to slip, and he automatically reached for it. As they’d left the school, the July night had turned cooler, and she’d slung the delicate, crocheted wrap around her. Every movement of Celeste’s was graceful and natural. He’d always noticed that when they’d hiked. Zoie’s movements had been more frenetic, some calculated to entice, others just meant to gain notice.

Clay lifted the end of the shawl over her shoulder. His hand brushed her hair, which felt as silky as it had looked when they were dancing. That same ripple of sensual awareness coursed through him again, and he mentally swore, frustrated with himself and the situation.

When Celeste’s gaze met his, for a moment he forgot where he was. He forgot everything but the two of them standing there on the walk outside his house.

“I love the scent of the evergreens all around your property. And the petunias look lovely.”

All he could smell now was the scent of Celeste’s perfume. “Abby likes flowers so I asked Mom’s gardener to plant a few. If we’re lucky and the cold holds off, they could last through September.”

“I don’t miss the winter snow,” Celeste said with a laugh. “But I do miss the green. I prefer firs to saguaros.”

“Where are you staying while you’re in Miners Bluff?”

“In one of the guest suites at Mikala’s aunt’s. The Purple Pansy Bed and Breakfast doesn’t have a lot of rooms, but I think it’s still one of the most hospitable places to stay in town.”

“How is Ms. Conti?” He should have guessed Celeste would be staying near Mikala—one of her best friends from high school—but he thought at this time of year, the B and B might not have a vacancy.

“Anna doesn’t seem to let anything get her down.”

“I hear good things about Mikala’s music therapy practice. I took a family sightseeing who’d driven up from Sedona so their daughter could spend a week in sessions with her.”

“She never discusses her clients.”

“No, but her clients discuss her, and you know how gossip makes the rounds in Miners Bluff.”

“Oh, yes,” Celeste murmured as they climbed the porch steps, then stood at his front door. “Quicker than a high-speed train.”

Celeste’s mother had been a target of the whispering chain around town. There had been rumors about her morals and the kind of life she’d led. She supposedly spent afternoon to midnight at the bar, drinking with the clientele, and slept with men who were patrons. She left her daughters alone too much of the time. Yet Clay knew rumors never told the whole truth. Clay had liked Ms. Wells. She’d raised Zoie and Celeste on her own the best she could. Her death when the twins were in their twenties had hit them both hard.

After Clay took out his key, he cast a glance at Celeste and saw she was biting her lip. She was nervous. Nervous about not knowing what to expect with Abby? Or nervous about seeing his mother again? She’d spent Christmas with them all the year before Abby was born. She hadn’t been back here since.

Clay opened the door, stepped back into the life he knew, the life he liked … the life he was satisfied with now.

Celeste was right behind him.

He realized little had changed from the way the house had looked a few years ago. He had exchanged the outlandishly colored sofa Zoie had wanted for a more muted blue plaid one. The gleaming hardwood floors, the dark rafters across the ceiling, the stone fireplace with its mantel, had remained the same.

“Great TV,” Celeste joked with a smile.

He had to admit, yes, that was new, too. “Multipurpose. Not only does it allow Abby to watch her movies in almost life-size proportions, but I can run my footage of trips and wilderness treks, really seeing what I’ve got.” He gave her a wink. “I could do my email on here, too, if I really wanted to.”

She just shook her head. “I’m having trouble keeping up with technology and it’s part of my business. Sometimes I wonder—”

A child’s cry sounded down the left hall off the great room.

“Abby!” Clay called and hurried down the hall to the wing of bedrooms. In that moment, when his daughter needed him, he forgot about Celeste and why she’d come.

Clay’s mom, who must have been sitting in the rocker reading—her book lay open on the chair—sat on Abby’s canopy bed, holding her arms out to her granddaughter. But Abby huddled near the pale pink wall, crying as if her heart were breaking.

“She had another bad dream,” his mother said.

Abby had been having bad dreams on and off ever since Zoie had left two years ago. She couldn’t possibly remember her mother, but he understood when a child’s world changed, everything went topsy-turvy no matter how resilient they were supposed to be.

Clay crossed the room quickly, sat on the bed and gathered Abby into his arms. “Hey, ladybug. What’s wrong?”

Abby shook her head and hiccupped, tears running down her chubby cheeks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Celeste in the doorway. He saw his mother’s frown and knew she was aware of her, too. He couldn’t deal with Celeste now. In fact, he wished she’d leave.

But Celeste didn’t leave. She looked uncertain—as if she might get thrown out—but she crossed the room slowly … as if she couldn’t stay away. She knelt down before Abby and said in a soft voice, “That must have been a very bad dream. But your daddy’s here now. He can protect you.”

Abby glanced up to look at Clay, but then ducked her head down again, almost as if she were trying to crawl into herself. “Daddy’s not always here.”

“I’m here, honey, when your daddy’s not.” Violet Sullivan’s voice sounded disappointed that her granddaughter didn’t know that.

As if Celeste recognized that children didn’t employ reason to come to a conclusion, she delved into Abby’s world. “I’ll bet your very favorite stuffed animal could protect you. I bet he could hold your hand all night if you wanted.”

Sniffling, Abby peered up at Celeste. “Granny says I shouldn’t sleep with my bears.”

Clay glanced at his mother, then asked Abby, “Why is that?”

Abby explained, “She says they get dusty on the shelf.”

Clay cleared his throat, unaware that conversation had ever happened. “If you think you’d like to sleep with one of your stuffed friends, we can make an exception tonight. Sometime soon maybe we can give them all a bath, then you’ll be able to choose any one you want.”

Abby removed her little arms from around her dad, swiped her wrist across her nose and studied Celeste for what seemed like an eternity. Then she squiggled to the edge of her pretty pink sheets and asked, “Will you come back and help me give them a baf?”

Clay could see that Celeste felt caught between what she wanted to do and what he might allow her to do. She answered, “I’ll talk to your dad about that.”

Abby just kept gazing into Celeste’s face as if she were trying to figure something out. Clay knew what. This woman wasn’t Zoie … but she was close.

Suddenly Abby held her arms out to Celeste, and without hesitation, Celeste took his little girl into her embrace. She sat on the edge of the bed, not far from Clay, and held Abby, her eyes shining with emotion, reverently brushing her long brown hair from her brow and cuddling her close.

The silence in the room seemed awkward to Clay, but Celeste and Abby didn’t appear to notice. They were looking at each other again.

Suddenly Abby asked her, “Can you sing a song?”

When Celeste’s gaze met Clay’s, he gave a resigned shrug.

Tentatively at first, Celeste began singing a song about favorite things—roses and kittens—and Clay’s stomach clenched. As Celeste’s voice grew stronger, he realized it was the song Zoie had hummed to Abby after she was born. She hadn’t sung it often, only on those rare times when she’d seemed to want to form a bond with her daughter. Did Abby remember? She wasn’t saying whether she did or didn’t. She was just cuddling into Celeste’s body, letting herself be soothed and rocked, letting her eyes close.

After a short while, Celeste bent her head to Abby’s and asked, “Do you think you’re ready to go back to bed now, little one?”

His daughter nodded.

Sliding closer to Celeste, Clay was ready to take his daughter. But Abby shook her head and held on to Celeste tighter. Celeste looked puzzled as to what to do.

“Does she have a favorite toy?” Celeste asked him.

Abby’s favorite toy. Did he even know which one that was? He’d been working so many hours lately, and she changed her mind every couple of months.

His mother’s voice came from the rocker across the room. “Try that bear with the blue bow on the shelves. That seems to be her favorite lately.”

Clay took it from the shelf and handed it to Abby. She tucked it under her arm.

Celeste asked, “Do you think you and your bear can go to sleep now?”

Abby’s little hand settled on Celeste’s cheek. Then she nodded and curled into a ball on the bed.

Oh, so gently, Celeste covered her with the sheet as Abby smiled sleepily, tucking the bear tighter into her side, then closed her eyes, gave a soft sigh and seemed to drift into sleep.

Celeste looked as if she never wanted to move.

Clay went to her and touched her elbow. She reluctantly stood and accompanied him out of the room, but not until she glanced over her shoulder for a long last look at the sleeping child. His mother followed them into the great room, and once there the three adults seemed stymied as to where to begin. Clay could decipher the look in his mother’s eyes that said she still didn’t approve of the Wells twins, and she certainly didn’t approve of Celeste coming here like this.

“It has been a long time, Celeste.” Violet Sullivan patted her sedately coiffed ash-blond hair as if she needed something to do.

“Yes, it has,” Celeste responded, still glancing down the hall to Abby’s room. Then her full attention focused on his mother. “I haven’t seen you since the Christmas before Abby was born. That was a wonderful holiday.”

“Yes, it seemed to be.”

Clay didn’t like the censure in his mother’s voice, didn’t like the way it had been there all through his marriage to Zoie. Celeste, moreover, didn’t deserve it. Just because his family had descended from the founding fathers of Miners Bluff, just because his family had always been well-off, was no reason for his mother to look down on Celeste—especially after what she’d done for him.

“Mom, could you sit with Abby while Celeste and I talk? She might wake up again.”

After a long worried look, his mother returned to his daughter.

“Let’s go outside,” he said gruffly to Celeste, and headed for the front door. He knew what had just happened between Abby and Celeste had to be addressed and addressed now.

Because Celeste Wells was more than a concerned aunt.

She was Abby’s surrogate mother.

Chapter Two

Outside on Clay’s front porch, a motherly fervor rose up in Celeste she’d never experienced before. If Clay thought she was going to walk away from her daughter this time, he was wrong. Even though his sperm and Zoie’s egg had made Abby, Celeste had felt a motherly bond from the moment of conception, though she’d denied it for years.

She squared her shoulders and met Clay’s turmoiled gaze head-on. “After Abby was born, it practically broke my heart to give her to you and Zoie. But that’s what I’d promised to do. I know I signed release forms and still don’t have any rights. But having rights and doing what’s right are two different things. You’re her father and you have sole custody. I understand that. But I carried her for thirty-eight and a half weeks. I felt her move inside me. I looked into her little face after she was born and felt … connected. I came back here to get to know her, to spend some time with her, and I hope you’re compassionate enough to understand why I have to do that.”

Clay didn’t look moved and his silence troubled her. So she asked, “How often does Abby have bad dreams?” Celeste remembered the feel of her daughter in her arms. Abby had looked up at her as if she’d known her!

Finally Clay reluctantly admitted, “Every few weeks. She hasn’t had one for a while.” He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. “I talked to her pediatrician about them but he believes they’ll pass.”

Clay’s eminent virility was difficult to ignore. And the regret in his voice tugged at her heart. Still, she probed for more information. “The dreams will pass when Abby feels secure again?”

“She is secure,” Clay assured her firmly. “She’s a happy little girl.”

“Until she goes to sleep at night … until she plays with other children and realizes she doesn’t have a mommy,” Celeste pointed out, unwilling to let this go.

“She was too young to remember Zoie. She was only eighteen months when Zoie and I separated.”

“Zoie came back to get the divorce a year later,” Celeste reminded him.

“She didn’t stay with us,” he protested. “She and I met at the lawyer’s office and she only saw Abby once.”

Celeste could clearly see on his face the turmoil her visit had caused. “Abby looked at me as if she knows me. She remembers Zoie.”

Swearing under his breath, Clay swung away from her and stared into the dark night, the mountains and the sky above. Finally he asked again with resignation, “What do you want?”

She wondered if he thought this time her answer would be different … if her answer would let him go back to the life he’d been leading before her email.

“For now, I’d just be happy to spend some time with Abby under ordinary circumstances.”

Clay came a couple of paces closer, the intensity in his eyes edging his words. “What’s this going to be, Celeste? You’ll be here a week then go back to your life in Phoenix? You want to spend holidays now and then with Abby? You intend to be a favorite aunt and come in and out of her life as it suits you?”

Celeste was stung by Clay’s anger, though deep down she knew some of it was justified. He’d been hurt by the divorce. He’d ridden out his turbulent marriage, tried to do the right thing and ended up as a single dad with a child to raise on his own. How could she tell him what she wanted when she didn’t know herself? She’d been hurt by love, too, not so long ago. But one thing was certain—she wanted a place in Abby’s life.

For a few moments, Clay’s closeness stole her breath. She remembered the strength of his fingers around hers as they’d danced, his hand splayed across the small of her back, the musk-and-pine scent of him that now stirred a sleepy need inside her.

Gathering her wits, reclaiming her senses, she tried to detach herself from Clay, the man, to talk to Clay, the father. “I’m here to stay if that’s what will be best for Abby.”

Shock deepened the brackets around his mouth, the lines at his eyes. “You’re willing to commit to staying in Miners Bluff to watch Abby grow up?” His voice held wariness and disbelief.

But Celeste had already spent many sleepless nights deciding what to do. “Yes. I think of her as my daughter. But I won’t disrupt her life and I’ll do what’s best for her.”

Clay was shaking his head, widening his stance. “You’ve got to give me some time to think about this, to figure out the best way to handle it.”

Trying to let him absorb her intention, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. “My cell phone number’s on there as well as my number at Mikala’s. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When she handed him the slip of paper, their fingers brushed. Awareness rushed through her and the flicker in his eyes told her something jarred him a little, too. High school memories? A history they couldn’t refute? The way their lives were converging once more?

As Celeste descended Clay’s porch steps, she remembered how she and her mother had watched movies together when she was a teenager and Zoie was out with friends. Her favorite movie had been Raiders of the Lost Ark. Clay had always reminded her of Indiana Jones—intelligent, adventurous and too sexy for words.

Now as she made her way to her car, she felt his gaze burning through her back.

The disco ball was still spinning when Celeste returned to the cafeteria where the reunion was in full swing. When Mikala waved at her, she headed to join her friend, who was sitting alone.

“You disappeared,” Mikala said, pushing her wavy black hair behind one ear.

Easily settling into the years-old routine of confiding in her old friend, she revealed, “I saw Abby. I actually held her.” She stopped when she heard the tremor in her voice, knowing she was already caring too much. If Clay wanted her gone, she’d really have no right to stay, so she couldn’t let herself get too attached.

Mikala didn’t seem to need her to say more. They sat listening to the music for a few moments.

Celeste’s thoughts raced as she tried to find a distraction. This reunion wasn’t over tonight. In the summer, the chamber of commerce scheduled rodeos for alternate Sundays, so some classmates planned to attend the event at the fairgrounds tomorrow. Maybe Clay would be there?

So much for a distraction. “Are you going to the rodeo tomorrow?”

“I’ll go if Aunt Anna doesn’t need me. The family staying in our other suite is checking out tomorrow morning.”

The Purple Pansy only had two suites, but Celeste knew Mikala didn’t want her aunt to carry the entire burden.

“I saw you dancing with Dawson Barrett before I left,” Celeste noted just in case her friend wanted to confide in her.

Mikala’s gaze went to the tall man in question who was embroiled in a lively conversation with a group of classmates.

“Is he still CEO of his own company?” Celeste asked, knowing Dawson also lived in Phoenix.

“You don’t run in the same circles?” Mikala asked with a smile.

Celeste laughed. “Oh, no. I think he’s in the millionaire club. And Phoenix is way too big for me to run into him by accident. But I read about what happened to his wife. He has a son, doesn’t he?”

Mikala’s face suddenly took on her professional look, and Celeste knew what that meant. She was a stickler for confidentiality in her practice. Had Dawson talked to her about his son?

Even if Mikala wanted to, she didn’t get the opportunity to answer. They both heard raised voices coming from a corridor that led off the cafeteria to the stairway beyond.

“That’s Jenny,” Celeste said, rising to her feet.

Mikala put a hand on Celeste’s arm. “She and Zack Decker stepped out there for a private conversation. He arrived shortly after you left. No one thought he’d come, since he hasn’t been back to see his father at the Rocky D in years. I guess everyone expected him to drive up in a limo or something. But even with that Oscar for film directing under his belt, he acted like a regular guy.”

Just then Jenny and Zack emerged from the corridor, both looking angry. Zack headed out of the cafeteria towards the school’s lobby. Jenny headed in the opposite direction, toward the ladies’ room.

“We should see if she’s okay,” Celeste said, well aware Jenny and Zack had been involved their senior year of high school.

“Let’s give her a few minutes. If she doesn’t come out, we’ll go in.”

Celeste sank down onto her folding chair again, trying to decide if reunions were a good thing or a bad thing. Old friends reconnected. The night brought back memories everyone had forgotten. Yet being together with classmates in this room stirred up old hurts, too … as well as old hopes.

Don’t go there. Old dreams were just that—old dreams. She’d returned to Miners Bluff to find new ones.

Celeste had always loved the rodeo. The scent of french fries and hot dogs, burgers and barbecued chicken wings reminded her of the times she’d come here as a teenager. Along with hiking on Moonshadow Mountain, she’d attended the rodeo on summer Sundays looking for an escape from everyday life, from gossip about her mother, from the sounds of raucous laughter that had drifted up from the bar—The Tin Pan Tavern—underneath her bedroom almost every night. When she’d earned enough money as a cashier at the grocery store to buy a rodeo ticket, she’d thrown herself into the experience, cheering on the clowns and the riders, eating fries sprinkled with vinegar, pretending for a few hours that she was an adult, free to do whatever she pleased.

Little had she known that adults had restrictions, too.

Behind her, Jenny followed her into the stands, waving at several people she knew. Celeste smiled at classmates who’d hung around for this event and found a seat near some of them.

Not long after she and Jenny were seated, a lone rider trotted from the gate behind the arena, a flag held high. Everyone stood as the “Star Spangled Banner” played.

A cheer went up from the crowd as the first event commenced and women’s barrel racing captured Celeste’s attention …

Until a deep male voice asked, “Is this seat taken?”

She’d know that voice anywhere. Before she turned to face Clay, she took a deep breath and reminded herself he was Abby’s father, nothing more.

Yet as she turned her face up to him and gazed into his gunmetal-gray eyes, she felt herself falling again into memories of another time when she’d wanted Clay to notice her, not her twin.

“Hey,” she said with a flippancy she wasn’t feeling. “I didn’t know you liked rodeos.”

“I’ve developed a taste for them.”

“You didn’t think much of them when we were in high school.” Zoie and Clay’s dates had never brought them here.

“Not true. My parents are the ones who don’t think much of them, and …”

“And Zoie wasn’t crazy about them, either.”

“No. She preferred driving into Flagstaff or Sedona to window-shop. But you loved the summer rodeo cycle.”

She was surprised he knew that. “I sure did. Still do. But I’m usually too busy to take time to enjoy one in Phoenix.”

“How did we ever become adults who don’t have time for fun?”

His tone shifted, and she could see he was serious.

After Clay settled in beside her, his arm brushing hers, she took another long breath, warning herself to stay calm. But she was nervous about Clay approaching her. What did it mean?

They watched horse and rider expertly circle the barrels, ending the competition with a gallop toward the finish line. A rousing cheer went up around them.

When the audience calmed down and the next rider approached the first barrel, Clay leaned toward her. “Do you want to find a quieter place to talk?”

She glanced at Jenny, who was deep in conversation with someone seated behind her. “Sure.”

“We can get something to drink,” he said as if they needed an excuse for leaving the stands.

She bent to Jenny. “We’re going to get drinks. Would you like me to bring you back anything?”

Jenny just looked at Clay and shook her head. “I’ll go down in a little while. Don’t hurry back on my account.”

Celeste wasn’t sure what to make of Jenny’s remark, but she followed Clay down to the ground and strode behind him until he stopped, waiting for her. “Iced tea or soda?”

“Iced tea. Unsweetened if they have it.”

After he bought them drinks, they wandered along a row of stalls until they reached a clearing behind the corrals. Riders practiced roping there. Colorfully dressed clowns passed them. A man Clay knew waved as he led a horse down the walkway.

“I should have handled last night differently.” Clay pushed up the brim of the crushable fedora that he wore most of the time when he wasn’t inside. In that hat, with its wide brim, pinched sides and dented top, he again reminded her of Indiana Jones.

“Differently how?”

“We were friends once, Celeste. I never intended to treat you like the enemy.”

She released a huge pent-up breath, but then she realized he might be trying to lessen the tension between them so she’d back off. She’d told him she had Abby’s best interests at heart. Maybe he thought if he was friendly enough, he could convince her that staying out of Abby’s life would be the best thing for his daughter. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with her.

She didn’t accept his olive branch so easily. “We don’t know each other anymore.”

“No, we don’t.” As his gaze studied her, a tremor went up and down her spine, not because he could keep her out of Abby’s life, but because she was still attracted to him. Attracted to him in a way she shouldn’t be if she didn’t want to get hurt again. She watched a flicker of … something pass over his face.

Then his jaw tightened, and his spine became more rigid. “What would it take to get you to leave?”

Instead of answering him, she asked, “Don’t you think having a female role model around might be good for Abby?”

“And just how do I explain you, Celeste? Do I tell her you’re her aunt? Or do I tell her you’re sort of her mother but she has another mother who didn’t want to be her mother and ran away from every responsibility she professed she was ready for?”

Celeste had been aware of how unhappy Zoie had been, as well as the reasons why. Did Clay even know what they were? He probably didn’t care. He was still raw from her desertion.

Taking a step away from Clay out of the virile aura he exuded, she said, “Maybe you should stop thinking about all the possible questions you have and just listen to me. I don’t want to hurt Abby. I want to be around for her. I understand you want to protect her, but did you ever think she might need me in her life with Zoie gone?”

With a stoic expression, Clay contemplated the nearby cowboy twirling his rope above his head. Then he refocused all his attention on her. “You never used to be this tenacious.” He sounded as if he might respect and admire that quality now.

“I didn’t have a reason to be tenacious.” After a few moments, she added, “You never looked beyond who I was in high school.”

He shrugged, one hand slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. “You were always quiet and seemed to hold back.”

“I stood in my sister’s shadow?” she prompted, knowing she hadn’t fought then to escape Zoie’s vibrant personality.

“Your words, not mine.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not true. I found a life after I left Miners Bluff, a life that gave me confidence in my own abilities and in what I could accomplish.” She should have added, “In who I was as a woman,” but she didn’t want to get into that. Her personality had always been swallowed up by Zoie’s.

The late afternoon sun streamed down on them as applause rose once more from the crowd in the stands.

The one thing Celeste had learned to do was to be honest about what she wanted and what she was feeling. She kept her voice low but didn’t hesitate to make eye contact. “Do you know what I felt last night, Clay, when Abby held on to me?”

He stepped nearer to her so it was easier to hear, so no one else could hear. “What?”

His mouth was close to her ear. His breath was warm. A quiver slid down her spine, and she fought attraction she had to deny. “I felt as if she was part of me, the same way I felt when she was still inside me. For over three years I’ve denied how I felt that day. I’ve denied the yearnings that brought me back here.”

He was still so close to her, his body heat was converging with hers when he asked, “What finally brought you back? I can’t believe the reunion was the reason you emailed me.”

“No, it wasn’t.” But she was sure he didn’t want to hear about a failed relationship, didn’t want to hear how she’d thought she’d found a man to love but then he’d rejected her in the most obvious of ways. She’d been blind and would try never to be so again.

“The reason doesn’t matter. I had to see Abby. I think she and I might need each other.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For Abby.”

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

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

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

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

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

His mother simply nodded in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His mom looked surprised at the answer.

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

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

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

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

Celeste looked at Clay as if for permission.

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

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

This he hadn’t expected.

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

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

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

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

“Do you cook?” his mother asked her.

“I do. It’s a hobby.”

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

“Mom,” Clay said in warning.

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

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

“No, Mom. I’m not.”

“Humor him,” she coaxed.

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

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

Although Celeste was already putting a puzzle together with Abby, she tossed him a quizzical look.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“I’m not thinking anything, except maybe your dad still wants you to be a banker.”

His father had always wanted him to be a banker … just as Zoie had. “Some things never change.”

“Doesn’t he accept the fact that you’re doing the work you love? Doesn’t that matter to him at all?”

So Celeste had always realized that. The revelation settled into Clay’s being as if it was important enough to make a home there. “My father isn’t interested in the journey. He’s always been interested in appearances and the end result. He wants me to be a respected member of the community and take over for him some day.”

“Turn the puzzle piece this way,” Celeste encouraged Abby. “There you go. That one fits.”

Abby clapped her hands and hugged Lulu tighter against her. “It fits, Lulu!”

As Abby selected another piece with Cinderella’s fairy godmother stamped on it, Celeste asked Clay, “Do you still like what you do? Do you still want to get into that SUV and drive where not many people go, hike where few people dare, teach others about the beauty of this place?”

He heard passion in Celeste’s voice. He’d never thought of her as passionate. That had been Zoie’s forte. “Yes, or I wouldn’t still be doing it.” He leaned around Celeste to tug on one of his daughter’s pigtails.

She grinned at him. “Don’t tease, Daddy.”

He laughed. He knew in spite of everything, Abby was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, he had Celeste to thank for that.

Levering himself up to a sitting position again, his chest brushed Celeste’s shoulder. She glanced back at him and he studied her face. His first impression at the reunion had been wrong—she did look a bit like Zoie, but not as much as he’d thought. Her perfume was different, her gaze was, too. It was direct, not evasive. In that moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her—if her lips would be soft and pliant, if passion would be natural for her or a means to get what she wanted.

Abby.

He pushed himself to his feet. “We’re having turkey burgers tonight. I’ll turn on the grill and set up a washbasin outside because I’m sure the bears’ bath will get messy.”

“Can I wear my swimsuit?” Abby asked, scrambling to her feet.

He tried to let the tension he felt with Celeste ease away so his daughter wouldn’t pick up on it. “Sure.”

Celeste turned away and took a deep breath. Was she feeling chemistry, too? Why now?

Rising to her feet, she asked, “What can I do to help?”

All of a sudden, he imagined the two of them naked and tangled in each other’s arms. Where the hell had that vision come from? That rush of adrenaline that still lingered? The bite of arousal he’d relegated to a remnant of younger days?

No, he could not get involved with this woman. Or any woman. His nine-year marriage had drained all the romance out of him. Zoie’s betrayal had left him distrustful at worst … guarded at best. Why would he want to risk that kind of pain again? Why would he put Abby at risk of getting hurt, too?

Coolly he said, “The washbasin is in the laundry room. Towels, too. Maybe you can bring those outside.”

“Can C’leste help me put on my swimsuit?”

Clay’s heart took a nosedive. Already Abby was bonding with Celeste. He had to make a decision whether he should let it happen or stop it right now.

What would be best for his daughter—and for him?

Chapter Three

Celeste paced Clay’s sunroom, anxiety making her nauseous. Had she passed the test? Would he think she was good for his daughter?

Her daughter, she reminded herself. Her daughter.

They’d washed the toys and then enjoyed a pleasant supper on the patio. At least she thought it had been pleasant.

Until her gaze had met Clay’s and something electric had filled the air.

He’d turned away. She’d turned away. They’d both moved away, never getting within touching distance as they played tag with Abby and hide-and-seek and a funny little game Abby had produced with a blue elephant and butterflies.

But Clay hadn’t invited her to participate in the bedtime ritual. He’d said that she could go inside, relax and watch TV if she wanted.

But she couldn’t relax. Not waiting for his judgment call. She felt as if tonight her life could change forever. And she preferred the shadows of the sun porch to the glare of the great-room lights.

She heard Clay’s footsteps as he strode through the kitchen. Only the summer moon cut a swath of light across the yard as Clay’s voice preceded him into the sunroom. “Celeste?”

“I’m here. I was listening to the sounds—the owls, the breeze in the leaves. Most of all I like the scents—the pines and the sage.”

His voice was a deep rumble in the shadows. “I’ve centered my life around the scents, the sounds, the textures of the landscape.”

She wished he’d step into the moonlight so she could see his expression. “You made a life around it. During my life I made memories of it. As soon as I was old enough, I ran up these mountains to escape the noise of the bar and Mom bringing men home. Those sensory memories will always be a part of me, just as holding Abby in my arms for the first time will be, remembering the warmth and softness of her skin.”

Now he took a step into her space, right into the glow of the moon. If he wanted her to step back, she didn’t. She could see the silver flecks in Clay’s eyes, almost feel the muscled fitness of his body. The heat of the July day was almost gone now, yet she could feel heat between them. Maybe that was just on her part.

“Are you trying to convince me of something?” he asked roughly.

“No. I’ve just told you how I feel.”

He swore, turned away, then faced her again, the tension in his body so evident that she could practically feel the sensual ripples.

“Clay.” She said his name so softly it was almost a whisper.

“Don’t,” he ordered.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me as if you want to be more than Abby’s mother. Don’t you get it, Celeste? I’m feeling, too.”

She knew if she asked the next question, she might not like the answer. But she asked anyway. “What are you feeling?”

He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. “I’m attracted to you. I can’t get you out of my mind. Sure, it’s part worry about you and Abby. But so much of it is just …” He stopped to study her … to assess how she might react. “So much of it is raw desire that’s making me crazy!”

She knew she could run. That’s probably what he expected her to do. Instead, she stood her ground because this was Clay—a boy she’d fallen hard for, a man she now desired. So she said, “I dream about you, too.”

Her words seemed to break a wall between them. He reached out and touched her face. His fingers were scorching. She didn’t breathe.

His groan was low as his arms encircled her and his lips came down on hers. Her breath became trapped in her chest as she kissed him back, bringing her hands to his shoulders, gripping him tightly so her knees wouldn’t buckle.

She heard his deep groan, felt his desire ratchet up as his tongue parted her lips, and he claimed her more possessively. She’d imagined this moment when she was in high school, yet she’d never expected it to happen. Once Zoie and Clay were dating steadily, she’d locked all her feelings tightly in a corner of her heart, never intending to let them show, never intending to act on them, never intending to let Clay see them.

As he pressed his body against hers, she felt herself melting into him, fitting against him as if this kiss was going to go a lot further. Clay rubbed against her, explored her mouth more thoroughly, took the kiss into the realm of deep passion instead of skimming the surface of their desire.

But just as suddenly as they’d come together, he pulled away and took a long, deep breath. “That never should have happened. Ever since you came back …” He abruptly stopped and shook his head. “You look like Zoie, yet you don’t. And you’re different than she was. You’re passionate and so natural with Abby. I don’t know if I’m attracted to you or if this is just some kind of libido-memory thing.”

Could he possibly know how much that hurt her? To be compared to Zoie and brushed aside as if she weren’t capable of inciting a man’s desire?

Even in the dim light, he must have seen the emotion on her face because he clasped her arm and said, “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“Maybe you did. Maybe this has nothing to do with me at all.”

He seemed to consider that and then shook his head. “No. Ever since we danced, there’s this … buzz between us. You obviously feel it, too, or you would have backed away. Why didn’t you?”

Now he was the one who wanted answers, yet she couldn’t give them. She realized now she didn’t want to reveal too much. Knowledge was power, and he could use that knowledge and power in all sorts of ways. She didn’t think he would, but as protective as he was of Abby, he might not take any chances by giving her even a little bit of leeway.

When she didn’t answer him, he concluded, “We have to ignore it.” His words were filled with conviction. “Chemistry will only complicate our lives even more. It was all Zoie and I had when we started and we didn’t even have that when we finished.”

There was a world of pain in that admission, pain from giving his life to someone and having her tear it up. She knew about that, but not as much as Clay did.

“Have you dated since the divorce?” she asked quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Celeste, there’s no reason to get into this.”

“I’d like to know if there have been any other women in Abby’s life.” And in yours.

“I wouldn’t have brought a woman into Abby’s life, not unless I was absolutely sure she’d be committed to staying in it. So, no, I haven’t dated.”

That summed up the intensity of the kiss for Celeste. If he hadn’t been with a woman, it would be easy for his desire to blaze out of control.

His voice was gruff as he lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I can’t say that what you’re thinking isn’t wrong.”

Another zinger. He could read her mind. That was almost as scary as the fact that he might have kissed her simply because she reminded him of Zoie.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, dropping his hand. “Are you involved in Phoenix?”

There was suspicion in his eyes, a remnant from Zoie’s betrayal. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was.”

She hoped that was true. But all those old longings had coalesced into a passionate encounter she wouldn’t soon forget. If one of his kisses could shake her up that much, heaven help her if they went further than that.

But he wouldn’t—because of Abby. Because he didn’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest.

“Tonight was a test run, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“You mean with Abby?”

“Yes.” What else would she mean, unless—”Did you kiss me to see what I would do to get access to Abby? Was that the test, too?”

“Don’t make more of it than it was, Celeste. I have to know what you’re planning to do now.”

“I’m serious about moving here, Clay. The question is—how often will you let me see her?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, glanced toward Abby’s bedroom, then said, “Let’s start with a couple of visits a week for now. My mother will be here while you’re with her. Is that acceptable to you?”

He sounded as if he were setting up a legal agreement.

“That’s fine. I hope in time you’ll trust me with her alone.”

“I don’t have an abundance of trust right now.”

The truth of that statement was as evident as the fine lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the defensiveness in his stance. She wanted to break through the walls he’d constructed after Zoie had left.

Maybe in time, he’d learn she wasn’t like her sister.

“I shouldn’t have come to this cocktail party,” Celeste said to Jenny on Friday evening as her friend ushered her into Silas Decker’s huge house. Zack’s father bred and trained cutting horses, turning over more of the management of the Rocky D ranch to Jenny every year.

When Jenny was a teenager, she’d come to live and work at the Rocky D. But to Silas she’d come to be much more than an employee. She was the daughter he’d never had.

“If Silas is introducing Clay to friends who want a fishing guide, I don’t want to intrude.” The more she thought about seeing Clay again, the more nervous she’d become.

Jenny was having none of that. “He’s doing that, but we’re watching Zack’s new movie, too. You’re my friend, and I want you here. As I told you on the phone, Silas is trying to fix me up again. I don’t want to be fixed up. I’m happy here doing what I’m doing, and doing it without worrying about what some man’s going to think of me.”

Celeste thought Jenny was protesting a little too much. She wondered again about the argument she’d had with Zack the night of the reunion. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it. They’d been quite an item their senior year, and from their angry parting, there still seemed to be some heat between them.

“Did you hear from Zack after the reunion?”

A mutinous expression flamed on Jenny’s face. “I don’t want to hear from Zack, not unless he’s telling me he’s coming home to figure out how to lessen the load on his dad.”

“Is there a problem?”

Jenny didn’t respond for a few moments, as if considering the facts, and whether she should or shouldn’t say anything about them. “I’ve seen some changes in the last couple of months. Silas’s energy’s definitely lower. He needs to rest more. He doesn’t have the verve he used to when he’s working in the barns. And with the book work, he could care less. He used to be on top of all of it. I asked him to consider going to the doctor for a checkup, but he said he’s fine. My instincts are telling me something’s going on.”

“What does Zack think?”

“He thinks I’m overreacting. But he was here less than twenty-four hours. How could he tell?”

“That’s why you argued?”

“Yes. And now I’m going to forget about it and just keep pushing Silas to see his physician.” She let out a deep breath. “So tell me what’s happening with you and Clay and Abby.”

Celeste felt warmth creep up her neck, and Jenny noticed.

“Well?” she asked, one hand on her hip, slightly wrinkling her coral sheath, her blond head cocked, her brown eyes penetrating.

“I saw Abby last Sunday and again on Monday when Clay was there. Then I visited again yesterday and he wasn’t there. His mother was.”

“How did that go?”

“It went okay, actually. His mom doesn’t seem to know what to think of me, though. She expects me to be flighty … like Zoie.”

Jenny brought a finger to her chin, then gave a slight nod as if she’d settled something with herself. “I never told you, but I saw Zoie once with Abby when she was about six months old. She had her in a grocery cart, pushing her around the store. The thing was—she didn’t pay much attention to her. When Abby fussed, she just let her fuss and kept shopping as if nothing was happening. This was one time and it might not have meant anything at all. She might have been tired. Maybe Abby had been fussing all day. But I wondered if that was the way she treated her all the time. It was none of my business, so I kept out of it. But I wondered.”

“If you had told me, I would have come back sooner.”

“And then what?”

Wasn’t that a loaded question? Would she have barged into Zoie and Clay’s life, claimed her daughter wasn’t getting the attention and love she needed? Wasn’t that why she’d chosen to make a life for herself in Phoenix, so she wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t see, wouldn’t be involved?

“Come on,” Jenny said, hooking her arm in Celeste’s. “Let’s join the party. Silas’s out-of-town friends heard about Clay and his tours and wanted to meet him in person. Silas also invited Jesse Vargas, Brody Hazlett and his dad, so you won’t be stuck in a room with Clay all night. Besides, I need a little girl company.”

Jenny led Celeste across the marble foyer, through a covered archway that opened into a high-ceilinged living room with a Remington on the wall, cowhide rugs and a suede and leather sofa long enough for a giant.

“Everyone’s in Silas’s parlor. Martha’s serving appetizers and drinks. You’re the last to arrive.”

Great, Celeste thought. That meant everyone would notice her when they walked in. She reminded herself she was no longer a shy teenager who preferred back corners to dancing under the spotlight. Holding her head high, she straightened to her full height, glad she’d worn heels instead of sandals, glad her teal dress, which had been an alternate choice for the reunion, had been a recent purchase before her trip here.

Celeste felt as if she should knock on the mahogany French doors that led into the parlor, but Jenny didn’t hesitate to grab a glass knob and open one of them. For a few moments, masculine voices circled around the group in the center of the room. Celeste recognized one deep baritone right away, but she kept her gaze from swinging to Clay. Instead she focused on the man at the center of the circle. He’d lost most of his gray hair, but his gray-black mustache seemed as thick as ever. The multitude of lines on his face attested to the fact that he’d aged since Celeste had seen him last.

“He has changed,” Celeste whispered to Jenny.

“In a lot of ways. Most of all, I think he’s just sad that he and Zack can’t talk.”

After only a few moments of hesitation, Celeste decided. “We might as well dive right in.” She tried to come up with a genuine smile.

“You’ve changed, too,” Jenny muttered as side by side they approached the closed group.

All of a sudden, one of the men Celeste didn’t know gave a low whistle and slapped Silas Decker on the back. “Where have you been keeping these two lovely ladies?”

Silas shrugged off the thirty-something man’s hand and turned to greet them. “Jenny, I’m so glad you invited Celeste.” He held her hand and then kissed the top of it lightly. “You’ve grown into quite a beauty.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

“As usual, we were talking horses. Clay was trying to explain to us why he picks the ones he does when he goes on trail rides. You were always a good picker, too, when you and Jenny convinced me to let you ride up to Moonshadow or out to Feather Peak. How do you choose?”

“It’s not very scientific,” she joked. “I look into his eyes, see if he likes my touch or pulls away from it. I give him a few ground commands and see how well he obeys. Then I take him for a little walk to get a feel for rhythm and companionability.”

Several men cleared their throats. Brody, a veterinarian like his dad, asked, “You don’t listen to recommendations from others?”

“I’ve learned recommendations from others don’t go very far if the horse and I don’t understand the same language.”

“Do you pick your dates that way?” Silas joked.

Unoffended, she shot back, “Maybe I should.”

The majority of the group laughed, but with one glance at Clay, she could see he wasn’t one of them. Even with that quick meeting of their eyes, she could still feel the desire from their kiss, the unusual undercurrent that made her body buzz, the still burned-on sensual taste of his lips on hers.

“Remember me?” a handsome, smartly dressed man asked. “I was a year ahead of you in high school.”

Jenny explained, “Jesse recently bought the sporting goods store.”

Celeste did remember Jesse, who’d been a football star in high school.

He had black curly hair, snapping dark brown eyes and a smile that could charm. “Which sport’s your favorite?” he asked.

Clay stepped in, eyed Celeste’s upswept hair, her dangling copper earrings, as well as the rest of her, in a millisecond glance. “Celeste prefers hiking. We were in the same club in high school and she can follow a trail better than anyone I know.”

“Anyone but you,” she acknowledged easily, wondering why he’d stepped in.

“You two were in the same class?” Jesse asked.

They glanced at each other and couldn’t look away. The kiss was there in Clay’s eyes—desire-filled, inciting, worrying.

Jesse cleared his throat, glanced at Clay, then asked Celeste with a bit of challenge, “Can I get you a drink?” He motioned toward the wet bar. “Silas’s bartender makes great dirty martinis.”

“Thank you. Maybe in a little while. I need to talk to Clay about something.”

“I’ll find you in a little while,” he agreed. He turned away and ambled over to the bar.

Clay led Celeste to a furniture grouping away from the others. “Lining up a date?” he asked in a serious tone.

“No, just trying not to be rude to one of Silas’s guests. Do you have a problem with that?”

Consternation crossed Clay’s face. “No, I guess not.”

Celeste glanced around and made sure nobody was within earshot. “I need to tell you something about Abby. When we were together yesterday, we played with her dollhouse.”

A smile crossed Clay’s lips. “She likes to take everything out and then put it all back in again.”

Celeste laughed. “Maybe she’ll be an interior designer someday.”

“But that’s not what you wanted to tell me.”

Her smile faded. “She played with a mom and dad and baby, but after a few minutes, she set the woman doll away from the dollhouse. When I asked her why, she said the mommy doll went away. I didn’t know how you’d want me to deal with it.”

Clay’s smile slid away, and he shook his head. “My mother never said anything about the way Abby plays.”

“Maybe your mom didn’t notice, or maybe Abby felt free to do that with me since I haven’t been part of her family circle.”

Clay rammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks. “I can’t tell her Zoie’s gone for good and I can’t tell her she’s coming back. You know Zoie’s unpredictable, and I can’t pin her down. When we divorced, sole custody was my main concern. In September, she’ll be receiving the second half of her settlement. When we talk about where to wire it, we’re going to have to get a few more things clarified. Abby needs to know who makes up her world.”

Because Clay looked so troubled, Celeste regretted telling him about Abby’s play. “I didn’t mean to just throw this at you, but I thought you should know.”

After a few moments of glancing away, his attention seemingly on the group across the room, he swung back to her. “What did you tell her?” His penetrating study of her face said he wanted the truth.

“I just suggested she let the daddy put the baby to bed, then we moved on to her pet-shop toys. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, and I certainly had no answers.”

“I suppose I was naive to think she wouldn’t remember Zoie leaving.”

“Maybe. Or possibly, she’s heard you and your mom talk. Mikala has often said kids are like sponges, soaking up words and feelings and vibrations that adults can’t even intuit.”

“You’ve talked to Mikala about this?” He didn’t seem angry, just curious.

“No, but she and I had a few discussions before I decided to become a surrogate.”

“I thought Zoie talked you into it.”

She remembered how her sister had pleaded with her, the lists of reasons why Celeste should do this for all of them. She also remembered Clay’s silence, his refusal to persuade her one way or the other. “I would do almost anything for my sister. But I had to make sure I was doing what I thought was right for all of us. The thing is, I didn’t have all the facts then. You and Zoie kept her affair from me. I didn’t know about that until she sent a long email, telling me the two of you were separating.”

The sound of raucous laughter came from the group of men. One of the men had turned on a flat-screen TV in the corner to check sports scores. Jenny was helping Martha serve more hors d’oeuvres.

“I don’t want to discuss this here,” Clay said evenly.

Celeste had the feeling he didn’t want to discuss it at all. “Your life with Zoie affected me, too, Clay, just as I’m affecting your life now. All of us made choices and some of them are mistakes.”

“Do you believe being our surrogate was a mistake?”

“Not when I look at Abby,” she said gently. “Not when I see how much you love her.”

The conflict in Clay’s eyes shifted to pain, and she wondered what he was thinking. But he’d never confide in her. After all, she’d made sure she’d never been close enough to him for confidences.

Glancing away from Clay assessing her and her motivation, she spotted Jesse watching her. She didn’t want to seem rude, yet she wasn’t interested in a date. She could sense his interest and knew that’s where a conversation would be headed … unless she told him some facet of the truth.

“I don’t know how to ask you this,” she said, turning back to Clay.

“Just ask.”

“When people want to know why I’ve come back to Miners Bluff and why I’m staying, I’d like to tell them the truth—that I’m here to get to know my daughter. Will that bother you?”

His mouth tightened into a straight line. “Maybe you could hold off on any declarations of intent. We don’t know where this is going.”

“I do.”

“Celeste,” he said, with hoarse frustration. “You’re pushing hard. Give me and Abby a chance to catch our breath.”

Silas Decker’s booming voice suddenly rang through the room. “Attention everyone. We’re all going to settle into my home theater where we can watch my son’s newest blockbuster. Martha will show you to the buffet and you can enjoy dinner while you watch.”

“I guess Zack has a new movie,” Celeste mused to break the tension between her and Clay.

“From what Silas has said, it could be another Oscar winner. Zack has definitely found his niche as a filmmaker. I’m probably going to cut out as soon as it’s over,” Clay said. “I know we still have a lot to discuss. Maybe we should do it on neutral ground.”

“Such as?”

“My parents are taking Abby to a children’s play in Flagstaff on Sunday afternoon. How would you like to go hiking with me on Moonshadow Mountain?”

Celeste’s heart beat fast as she remembered the purple cliffs leading to the peak where the world seemed far away beneath.

“I promise we’ll take it slow. You might not be used to the altitude yet.”

His voice had a reassuring quality to it, but she didn’t want reassurance.

What she wanted was to prove to him she was not her twin.

Chapter Four

Celeste’s footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet of pine needles that cut through the forest. Ponderosas stood scattered between Douglas firs along a path that had been carved out decades ago and seemed to renew itself each year.

As she and Clay climbed out of the shadows into the sun, her boot hit a clump of earth, and stones clattered in the silence.

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