A faint smile curved his lips.

“I’m a curious man and you’re a beautiful woman. A plus B equals C.”

“That’s not the way algebra works.”

Finn chuckled lowly. “You’re right. That’s not algebra. That’s my own special equation.”

He was making light of the whole thing and it would be best if she did, too. But his kiss had shaken her to the very depths of her being. And she was sick of men never taking her seriously, tired of being considered a pleasant pastime and nothing more.

“Very cute,” she muttered, then quickly turned away from him and walked over to Harry’s playpen. “But I’ve had enough laughs for one night. I’m putting Harry and myself to bed.”

Mariah was bending over to pick up Harry when Finn’s hands caught her around the waist and tugged her straight back into his arms.

“If you thought that was for laughs, then maybe I’d better do it over.”

Before she could react he’d already fastened his lips over hers. And this time there was no mistaking the raw hunger in his kiss.

***

Men of the West:

Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy…

Daddy Wore Spurs

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

To my husband, Harrell.

You still look sexy in spurs, my darlin’!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Was this baby his son?

Finn Calhoun stared in wonder at the four-month-old boy cradled in the woman’s arms. The child’s hair was curly, but it wasn’t bright copper like his own. Still, it was a light shade of auburn. Finn’s eyes were the color of the sky, while the baby’s eyes were a much darker blue. There were also the dimples creasing his fat little cheeks. Finn possessed those same dimples, too. But that was hardly proof the little guy belonged to him.

A man was supposed to have nine months to adjust to the idea of becoming a dad, Finn thought. He’d had all of two days to ponder the notion of having a child. And though he liked to consider himself a man with his boots firmly planted on the ground, the idea that he might be a father had left him feeling as if he’d been shot out of a cannon and hadn’t yet landed.

“Would you like to hold him?”

The gently spoken question broke through Finn’s dazed thoughts, and he lifted his gaze to Mariah Montgomery, the baby’s aunt.

Gauging her to be in her midtwenties, he noted that her slender frame was concealed beneath a pair of worn blue jeans and a sleeveless red checked blouse. Crow-black hair waved back from a wide forehead and was fastened at the nape of her neck with a white silk scarf. Cool gray eyes regarded him with cautious regard, while a set of pale pink lips pressed into a straight line.

Since meeting him at the door five minutes ago and inviting him into the house, Finn hadn’t seen any sort of pleasurable expression or welcoming smile cross her face. But Finn could overlook her somber attitude. She’d surely gone through hell these past few weeks.

A month ago, her sister Aimee had died in a skiing accident. Since then she’d had to deal with grief and instant motherhood. Now she was meeting Finn for the first time. And she had no idea if he was a worthless bum who’d taken advantage of her late sister, or a nice guy who’d been caught up in a long-distance love affair. She only knew that Finn’s name was listed on the baby’s birth certificate as the father.

His head whirling with questions and reservations, Finn stepped forward. “Do you think holding him would be all right?”

She shot him an odd, almost suspicious look. “Why wouldn’t it be all right? Fathers do hold their sons. And Aimee named you as the father.”

Her voice held a thread of skepticism. As though she was far from convinced he was the boy’s father. Well, Finn could’ve told her that for the past two days, he’d also been swamped with doubts. No matter that the timing of the child’s birth calculated perfectly back to the weekend he’d spent with Aimee, a two-day affair hadn’t necessarily created a baby. Even so, he wasn’t about to dismiss the possibility that he was the father.

Keeping these thoughts to himself, he said, “Some babies don’t appreciate being handed over to a stranger. And I don’t want to make him cry.”

Mild surprise pushed the suspicion from her face. “Oh. So you’re familiar with babies?”

“I’ve never had one of my own,” he admitted. “But I spent quite a bit of time with my nieces and nephews when they were small.”

That hardly seemed to impress her, but she did move a step closer.

“I see. Well, Harry is a friendly little guy. He likes most everyone.”

The breath suddenly rushed from Finn’s lungs. “Harry? Is that short for Harrison?” he asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

“That’s right. I always call him Harry, though.”

The yellow and blue furnishings of the nursery faded to a dazed blur, prompting Finn to wipe a hand over his face. He’d never felt so humbled, so shaken in his life.

“Harrison is my first name,” he told her. “But I—I guess you already knew that. You saw it on the birth certificate.”

Her cool gray gaze connected with his and for one brief moment, Finn thought he spotted a flash of compassion in her eyes. Could she possibly understand that his emotions were riding a violent wave? Maybe she understood he wasn’t the sort of man who could casually make a baby, then walk away without a backward glance.

She said, “I’m sorry. When I spoke to you on the telephone, I was so focused on how to give you the news about Aimee that I didn’t think to tell you Harry’s name.”

Hearing that Aimee had died from a tragic accident had been enough to knock Finn sideways. Then before he could recover, she’d hit him with the news of the baby and that supposedly he was the father. After that he’d been too stunned to ask for details. He’d managed to scribble down the child’s location and a phone number, and the rest of the conversation had passed in a blur.

“To be honest I don’t recall much of our conversation. I was pretty shaken up. All I could think about was getting up here,” Finn admitted, then shook his head. “I can’t believe Aimee even remembered my first name. Everyone calls me Finn—that’s my middle name.”

He held his arms out and Mariah carefully handed the boy to him. Once he had the baby’s weight cradled safely in the crook of his arm, the realization that he could be touching his son for the very first time swelled his chest with overwhelming emotions.

Bending his head, Finn placed a kiss on the baby’s forehead, while unabashed tears burned the back of his eyes. Father or not, he couldn’t ignore the deep and sudden connection he felt to the child in his arms.

“This isn’t the way a man is supposed to be introduced to his son,” he murmured thickly. “The child should be newly born from his mother’s womb with his eyes squinched and his skin all red and wrinkled. He should be there to hear him crying and sucking in the first few breaths of his life.”

Lifting his head, he looked to Mariah for answers. “If Harry is truly mine, then I’ve lost so much—memories and moments that I’ll never have. Why didn’t Aimee tell me she was pregnant?”

With a frustrated shake of her head, she turned and walked to the far side of the nursery. As Finn watched her go, his gaze was instinctively drawn to the sway of her curvy hips encased in faded denim and the long black tail of hair swishing against her back. He hadn’t expected Aimee’s sister to look so young or pretty. In fact, during the brief time he’d known Aimee, she hadn’t said much about her sister. Only that she had one and that the both of them lived on the ranch.

As Finn had made the drive up here to Stallion Canyon in Northern California, he’d held the notion he’d be meeting an older woman with a family of her own, who’d kindly taken in her little nephew until the father could be located. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Mariah was an attractive single woman. Not only that, there was a fierce maternal gleam in her eye. One that said she wasn’t about to hand Harry over to him without definitive proof.

“Several weeks passed after Harry was born before Aimee finally told me you were the father. After that, I tried to persuade her to contact you, but she always stalled without giving me a reason. I don’t know why. Unless it was because some other man actually fathered Harry. Maybe she got tangled up with a married man. Or she didn’t want you involved. I’m just as confused as you are about the whole thing.”

It was becoming clear to Finn that Aimee hadn’t revealed much, if anything, to her sister about their weekend romance in Reno. But he didn’t consider that odd. He hadn’t said anything about that weekend to his brothers, either. Not until two days ago when he’d learned about the baby. Before then, his time with Aimee had been a private, personal thing.

“I’ve never been married. I made that clear to Aimee.” He shook his head with confusion. “We met and after having a whirlwind weekend together, I thought she’d taken our time together seriously. Before we parted I gave her my number and she promised to keep in touch. But I never heard from her again.”

Her expression rueful, she said, “We were sisters, but we had our differences. She didn’t talk much to me about her personal life. But after Harry was born—well, we eventually got into a heated argument.”

Her wavering voice had broken in spots and as Finn watched her struggle to hold back tears, it suddenly struck him that this whole ordeal was far more difficult for her than it was for him. Mariah had lost a member of her family. Finn’s connection to Aimee had been little more than a brief, star-crossed encounter.

Finn was wondering if he should offer some comforting words when she suddenly went on, “I warned her that if something happened to her, Harry would need his father. I didn’t— I never thought something actually would happen. I was only trying to push her into contacting you. But then she really died. Now I have to live with those words I said to her. Even though I said them with good intentions.”

Finn was suddenly struck with the urge to go to her and place a reassuring arm around her shoulders. But he held back. They’d met only a few minutes ago. She might not appreciate him getting that close. Especially when the two of them appeared to be the only two adults in the house.

“We all say things we wish we could change or take back,” Finn told her. “But in this case I hardly see where you crossed the line. Harry’s father should’ve been contacted long before his birth. I don’t understand why she was keeping it a secret.”

She made a helpless palms-up gesture. “Frankly, Aimee had been giving me the impression that the father was someone else. A guy she’d been involved with off and on for a long time. When she told me about you and showed me the birth certificate, I was shocked.”

Finn’s mind was so jammed with questions, he didn’t know where to begin or what to think. “What else did she tell you about me?”

Shrugging, she said, “Not much. Just that you lived in Nevada and liked horses. Later, after the accident, I found your number in her address book.”

With the baby cuddled safely to his chest, Finn moved across the room to where Mariah was sitting stiffly on the edge of the rocking chair. The two sisters couldn’t have been more different, he thought. Where Mariah was dark and petite, Aimee had been tall, with caramel-brown hair and hazel eyes. Their personalities appeared to be equally opposite, too. Aimee had been full of smiles and laughter, whereas this young woman seemed to be all serious business.

“I don’t know what to think about all that, Ms. Montgomery. But if she said I’m the father, then I surely must be.” He looked down at the precious baby snuggled in the crook of his arm. Three days ago Finn had been a thirty-two-year-old man with nothing on his mind but his job of managing the Silver Horn’s horse division. The possibility of having a child never entered his thoughts. Now here he was holding a baby who could very well be his son. The whole thing seemed surreal. “I met Aimee at the mustang training competition in Reno. After the first round was over I made a point of searching her out. To offer a price for her horse. She refused to sell him.”

“But she didn’t refuse to go to bed with you,” Mariah said pointedly.

Her blunt way of putting it spread a wave of heat over his face. More than a year ago, when he’d said goodbye to Aimee, he’d never imagined that anything so life-altering as a baby had occurred between them. And he certainly hadn’t expected Aimee to lose her life on a ski slope less than seventy miles from the Silver Horn.

“We spent the weekend together in Reno. It wasn’t like either one of us set out to make a baby.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Mr. Calhoun.”

The suggestive remark caused his jaw to drop. “You think I—”

“Not you,” she interrupted. “I’m talking about Aimee. I’ve always believed she deliberately set out to get pregnant. If not by you—then someone else.”

The idea of Aimee using him to get pregnant was incredible. She’d hardly seemed the conniving type. And why would she have done such a thing?

He said, “I’ll admit that two days wasn’t long enough for me to know everything about Aimee. But I find it hard to believe she was luring me into a pregnancy trap, or shotgun wedding, or anything close to it. She didn’t try to attach any strings to me. My mistake was trusting her when she said she was on the pill. But as you can see I’m here and more than ready to take responsibility for Harry.”

Bending her head, she said in a low voice, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. When my sister met you in Reno—well, her plans might not have included a baby at all. It’s just that she had—”

“Look, if you were going to tell me about Bryce, I already know. She told me how he’d been a longtime boyfriend. But she’d broken things off with him.”

Her head popped up. “Aimee mentioned Bryce to you? That’s surprising. She wasn’t one to share personal things.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk about yourself to someone you just met. Especially if your plans are to never see them again,” he added wryly.

Her expression turned curious. “You think she’d never intended to see you again?”

“I didn’t then, obviously. But I do now.”

The baby began to squirm and Finn looked down to see that the infant was chewing on his tiny fist. Drool was dripping off his chin and Finn carefully wiped it away with his forefinger. Just touching the baby’s face and looking into his dark blue eyes filled Finn’s heart with a fierce protectiveness. If Harry was his son, he wouldn’t let anyone or anything keep him from taking the baby home to the Silver Horn. And that included the black-haired beauty who was eyeing him as though he were the devil himself.

* * *

Across the small nursery, Mariah was having all sorts of trouble dragging her gaze away from the rugged Nevada cowboy. A few minutes ago, when she’d opened the door and found herself standing face-to-face with Finn Calhoun, she’d felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet.

She’d expected Finn’s appearance to be a bit more than average, otherwise Aimee would’ve never taken a second glance at him. But this guy was leaps and bounds beyond average.

At least two or three inches over six feet, he towered over her. Broad shoulders sat over a long torso that narrowed down to a lean waist and tall, muscular legs. Yet his hard, wiry body was only a part of his striking appearance, she realized. His face was a composite of tough angles and slopes. A jutting chin, hollow cheekbones and rough-hewn lips were softened by a pair of dazzling blue eyes partially hidden by a thick fringe of copper-colored lashes. Slightly darker hair of the same color curled wildly around his ears and against the back of his neck, while a set of white teeth made a startling contrast against his tanned skin.

Oh, he was a looker all right, Mariah decided. But that didn’t necessarily make him daddy material. Especially if he used those looks to go around seducing women. Still, in all honesty, she didn’t know if this man had done the seducing or if Aimee had been the initiator of their romance. And it hardly mattered now. The only question that should be on her mind was whether he’d actually fathered little Harry.

Reining in her wandering thoughts, Mariah said, “Aimee dated Bryce for over three years and wanted to marry him, but he kept putting her off. He was divorced and wasn’t ready to try marriage again. That’s why—well, Aimee once told me she was tempted to get pregnant so that Bryce would feel obligated to marry her. But she said he was always too careful about such things and she wasn’t sure how she could manage it. I told her she was crazy to even consider such a scheme. Being pregnant wouldn’t necessarily force Bryce into marrying her, anyway.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion and Mariah could see that he was stung by the notion that Aimee might have used him, especially to coerce another man into marrying her.

“That’s one of the most conniving, deceitful things I’ve ever heard. If that’s the way Aimee’s mind worked, then she might’ve had other affairs. Harry’s father might be someone you never heard of!”

The anguished look on his face implied he wanted Harry to be his son. The notion surprised Mariah. Most single guys his age would be running backward at the idea of taking on the responsibility of a baby.

Her gaze continued to roam his rugged face and the big hands gently cradling the baby. “Look, I’m just saying she harbored those ideas. I have no proof she was trying to carry them out with you or any man. For my sister’s sake, I’d like to think Harry was innocently conceived.”

“With me?”

An awkward silence followed his question, and with each second that passed, the more Mariah had to fight to keep from jumping from the rocker and rushing out of the nursery. Something about this man and her sister sharing a passionate weekend together was an image she wanted to push from her mind.

“Well, I’d hate to think she falsely put your name on the birth certificate. And I’d sure hate to think that Harry’s father might always be a question mark.”

He looked down at the baby. “I’d never let that happen to this little guy.”

Feeling like a jumble of raw nerves, she restlessly crossed her legs and began to tap the air with her bare foot. The movement must have caught his attention because she suddenly noticed his gaze slowly slipping from her face and traveling downward, over her leg and onto her foot.

Heat instantly flooded her cheeks and she mentally scolded herself for not slipping on her shoes before she’d answered the door. But it was a warm May afternoon and certainly pleasant enough in the house to go without footwear.

You’re reacting like a foolish teenager, Mariah. Finn doesn’t find anything fascinating about your pink toenails. And he hasn’t come to Stallion Canyon to ogle you in any form or fashion. He’s here because of Harry and no other reason.

Clearing her throat, she blocked out the scolding voice in her head and tried to form a sensible question. “So you’re saying you want Harry to be your son?”

To her relief, his gaze returned to Harry and as he studied the child, she could see something that looked an awfully lot like love move over his features. The sight smacked Mariah right in the middle of her heart. A man was supposed to care that much for his child, she thought. Yet a part of her had been hoping Finn would be the irresponsible type. That he’d gladly hand the responsibility of raising Harry over to her. But it was becoming clear that he had no intention of stepping aside. So where was that going to leave her?

He said, “This wasn’t the way I’d planned on becoming a father. But now that I have Harry in my arms, it feels right and good.”

She folded her hands together atop her lap and tried to keep the confused emotions swirling inside her from showing on her face.

“So you believe he’s actually your son?” she asked guardedly.

“I do. I think you’d have to agree that he takes after me. The red in his hair and dimples in his cheeks.”

“Maybe. But that’s hardly proof.”

Frowning, he moved closer to where she sat, and Mariah instinctively placed a hand on each arm of the rocker and both feet flat on the floor.

“Something in your voice says you’re hoping I won’t be the father,” he said tersely.

A blush scalded her cheeks. “I only want what’s best for Harry.”

He eyed her with cool conviction. “I don’t know what sort of man you think I am, Ms. Montgomery, but—”

“Please, call me Mariah,” she interrupted. “Calling me Ms. Montgomery makes me feel like I’m in the classroom.”

Distracted now, he latched onto her last word. “Classroom? You’re a teacher?”

“High school. History. That surprises you?”

Confusion flitted across his rugged face. “Aimee insinuated that Stallion Canyon was a profitable horse ranch. I just assumed the ranch was your livelihood, too.”

A dead weight sank to the pit of her stomach as she slowly pushed herself out of the rocker. “I’ll explain in the kitchen. It’s time for Harry’s bottle and I’m sure you could do with some coffee or something.”

“Coffee sounds good,” he agreed. “Lead the way.”

* * *

With the baby cuddled safely against his chest, Finn followed Mariah out of the nursery and down a hallway that eventually intersected a small breezeway. Once there, she turned left down another short hallway until they reached a wide arched opening.

“We used to have a cook, but we had to let her go,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Hopefully, you can tolerate my coffee-making.”

They stepped into a rectangle-shaped kitchen with a ceiling opened to the rafters and a floor covered with ceramic tile patterned in dark blues and greens. To the right side of the room a round oak table and chairs were positioned near a group of wide windows covered with sheer blue curtains. To the left, white wooden cabinets with glass doors lined two whole walls, while a large work island also served as a breakfast bar.

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Have a seat at the bar or the table. Wherever you’d like. I’ll get the coffee going, then heat Harry’s bottle.”

Since he was closer to the bar, Finn sank onto one of the padded stools and propped the baby in a comfortable upright position against his left arm. So far the tot seemed to be a good-natured boy. He hadn’t yet let out a cry or even a fussy whine, but living in the same house with Rafe’s two children, Colleen and Austin, had taught Finn that a baby’s demeanor could change in an instant.

“What was wrong with the cook?” he asked curiously. “Burned the food?”

Greta, their family cook back on the Silver Horn Ranch, had been with them for more than thirty years. He couldn’t imagine anyone but her making their meals and ruling the kitchen.

Over at the cabinet counter, Mariah was busy pouring water into a coffeemaker. He was still trying to grasp the fact that she was a teacher. Apparently, being in a classroom full of kids was a more comfortable job to her than sitting atop a horse.

You’re wondering too much about the woman, Finn. It doesn’t matter what she does for a living or for fun. Once you take Harry away from here, you probably won’t see her again. Unless she comes to the Horn to visit Harry from time to time.

Was that the way it was going to be? Finn asked himself. Was it already settled in Finn’s mind that Harry belonged to him? That the baby belonged on the Silver Horn with him?

Mariah’s voice suddenly interrupted the heavy questions pushing through his thoughts.

“Cora was a great cook. She’d worked here for years. But after Dad died, money got tight. We had to start cutting corners.”

There was an embittered tone to her voice. One that shouldn’t belong to someone so young and pretty, he decided. Sure, she’d obviously had to deal with her fair share of raw deals. But that didn’t mean she needed to keep dragging those disappointments behind her.

“Aimee talked about your father passing away,” he told her. “I could see she was still pretty cut up about his death.”

“Aimee and Dad were very close. She was just like him—obsessed with horses. Especially the wild ones,” she added bluntly.

Was Mariah trying to say that Aimee had possessed a wild streak? Had Aimee shared her bed with Finn because she’d liked living recklessly? Or had she, as Mariah had implied, used him to get pregnant? Whatever the reason, it was clear that Aimee hadn’t been completely honest with him, and that left Finn feeling like a fool for ever getting involved with her in the first place.

The baby let out a short cry and Finn looked down to see that the child was gnawing on his fist. “Harry, you must be hungry or teething,” he said to the boy.

Finn’s voice caught the baby’s attention and Harry went quiet as he stared curiously up at him. Finn used the moment to touch his forefinger to the baby’s hand, and instantly the tiny fingers latched tightly around his. Harry’s response filled Finn with a fierce love and protection he’d never experienced before. Father or not, the baby needed him.

As another thought suddenly struck him, he glanced over to where Mariah was gathering mugs from the cabinet. “Do you have a copy of Harry’s birth certificate?”

“I have the original. It’s safely stored with my important documents. Harry’s name is registered as Harrison Ray Calhoun—the Ray being our father’s name.” She turned a pointed look on him. “So where do we go from here? A DNA test?”

He’d been waiting for her to say those three little letters. The birth certificate stated Finn as the father, but Mariah wasn’t yet ready to accept that as complete validation. And perhaps she was right. After all, a child’s parentage was a serious matter. Yet seeing Harry and holding the little guy in his arms had caused some kind of upheaval inside Finn.

He didn’t understand what had come over him. All he knew was that this child had suddenly become everything to him. The idea that a clinical test could say otherwise chilled Finn to the very bottom of his being.

“I suppose that would be the logical thing to do. That way his parentage would never be in doubt,” Finn said with slow thoughtfulness. “I just wish it wasn’t necessary. I don’t want Harry to grow up and learn that the identity of his father was ever in question.”

Forgetting her task, she walked over and placed a hand on Harry’s back. “I don’t necessarily want that for him, either. But I want him to have the ‘right’ father.”

He slanted her a wry look. “Don’t you mean you want him to have the right ‘parent’?”

Her long black lashes lowered and partially hid the thoughts flickering in her gray eyes.

“What do you mean?”

The threads of his patience were quickly snapping. “Don’t act clueless. You want to keep Harry for yourself. You’re hoping like hell that I won’t be the father.”

Her mouth fell open. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it all over your face. Hear it in your voice.”

Shaking her head, she turned her back to him. “If that were true, then why did I call you? I didn’t have to, you know,” she said, her voice heavy with resentment. “I could’ve kept Harry all to myself.”

He instinctively cradled the baby closer to his chest. “Yeah, you could’ve left me in the dark. But then you couldn’t have lived with your conscience. Or with Harry, once he grew old enough to start asking about his father. You’d have to make up a lie to tell him why you didn’t make an effort to contact me. Then one lie starts leading to another. You’re not that kind of woman. The kind that can live on a bed of lies.”

She whirled around to face him and Finn was struck by the moisture collecting in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt this black-haired beauty. She’d already been hurt enough. But she needed to understand that he wasn’t a fool. Or at the mercy of her wants and wishes.

“You don’t know what kind of person I am! We’ve only just met.” A sneer twisted her lips as she raked a disapproving gaze over him. “But then I need to remember you jumped into bed with Aimee right after you met her. I suppose you thought you knew her, too!”

His jaw tight, he said, “Your crude observations don’t embarrass me, Mariah. But they do have me wondering. Maybe you’d like an invitation into my bed.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief, then turned to cold steel. “That’s the most insulting, despicable thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Is it?” he asked softly.

A scarlet blush crept over her face. “Look, Mr. Calhoun, the only thing you need to concern yourself with is the result of Harry’s DNA test. And the faster we can get those done, the happier I’ll be!”

Chapter Two

Finn watched Mariah stalk to the opposite end of the kitchen and thump a pair of empty mugs onto a plastic tray. He’d never spoken that way to any woman before and he wasn’t quite sure what had prompted such a thing to come out of his mouth. Except that ever since he’d arrived on this ranch, she’d been subtly goading him. As though she considered it okay for her to judge him as a cad for having a romantic interlude with Aimee. As if she were infallible and would never stoop to such human impulses.

With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and walked over to where she was pulling a baby bottle filled with formula from the refrigerator. After giving him a cursory glance, she shut the door on the appliance and moved over to a microwave. Finn felt compelled to follow.

“I’m sorry, Mariah,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. I was way out of line.”

While the microwave whirred, she kept her back to him. It wasn’t until the bell dinged that she retrieved the bottle, then turned to face him.

“Then why did you say it?” she asked stiffly.

The icy stare she’d stabbed him with earlier was gone. Now her gray eyes were dark with shadows, and Finn realized his question had touched far more than just her female pride. The notion made him feel even worse.

“Because you seemed set on judging me for spending a weekend with Aimee. That’s not— Well, for your information, I don’t go around having affairs, short or long, on a regular basis! Yet you want to make me out as a cad. What’s the matter with you? Are you a prude or something?”

Outrage popped her mouth open and Finn expected her to flounce off in huff. But after a moment, her shoulders sagged and she glanced away. “Making a baby is a serious thing,” she murmured.

She was avoiding his question, but he was hardly going to point that out to her now, Finn decided. Besides, he had the feeling that before this ordeal with Harry was finished, he was going to find out plenty about Mariah Montgomery.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said curtly. “Because there is a baby. A baby who’s lost his mother.”

She reached for Harry then, but Finn continued to hold him firmly against his chest. “Give me the bottle. I’d like to feed my son.”

Her chin came up to a challenging angle. “It’s yet to be determined whether Harry is your child, Mr. Calhoun.”

“You decided that. I didn’t. I agreed to a DNA test because you wanted one and my family back home wants one. But as far as I’m concerned, Harry has Calhoun blood running through his veins. And by the way,” he added, “call me Finn. When you say Mr. Calhoun you make me think you’re addressing my grandfather.”

“All right, Finn. I guess I should appreciate your frankness. At least I’m not in the dark about where you stand with Harry.”

She handed him the bottle. Finn carried it and the baby back over to the breakfast bar. After he’d taken a seat on one of the stools, he cradled Harry in a comfortable position in the crook of his left arm and offered him the warm bottle.

“Here’s your dinner, little one,” he told the baby. “Go for it.”

The infant latched onto the nipple with a hunger that brought a faint smile to Finn’s lips. Oh, what a stir this little guy was going to make on the Silver Horn, he thought. Especially with his grandfather Bart, who was all for the expansion of the Calhoun family.

He looked up as Mariah approached the bar carrying a tray with the coffee and containers of cream and sugar. As she placed it a safe distance from his elbow, she asked, “Would you like cream or sugar? Since you have your hands full, I can fix it for you.”

“Just black. Thanks,” he said, grateful that she was being somewhat hospitable. Especially after that sexual taunt about inviting her into his bed. No telling what she was thinking about him now. Her impression of him had most likely slipped from cad to pervert. But why her opinion of him should matter, he didn’t know. Except that something about Mariah Montgomery got under his skin. He wanted to see approval in her eyes and a smile on those lovely lips.

Cradling one of the mugs with both hands, she stood a couple of steps away, watching Harry feed. After a long stretch of silence, she asked, “Where did a bachelor like you learn how to feed a baby?”

“My sister, Sassy, has two kids. A son, J.J., and a daughter, Skyler, born three months ago. And two of my brothers have small children.”

“Playing with your little nieces and nephews is not the same as actually caring for them,” she said bluntly.

Defending himself to this woman was definitely getting old, Finn thought, but he was going to do his best not to let his impatience show. Sparring with her wouldn’t help matters. “I’ve done more than just play with them,” he informed her. “I’ve babysat Sassy’s kids while she and her husband went out for the evening. So I know about bottles and diapers and those sorts of things.”

“You, a babysitter? That’s hard to imagine.”

Ignoring that jab, he said, “Sassy trusts me to care for her kids like they’re my own. And I’m glad to do it for her.”

“So the two of you are close,” she said thoughtfully. “Aimee and I were that way once. But time and...other things caused us to grow apart.”

The contents of the bottle had lowered to the point where Finn was forced to tilt it higher so Harry would ingest formula rather than air. She watched him make the adjustment, then seemingly satisfied that he knew how to feed a baby, she took a seat on the stool next to his.

Using his free hand, Finn reached for the mug of coffee, then carefully leaned his head away from Harry to take a sip. The brew was stronger than what he was normally used to, but it tasted good. The long drive up here, coupled with the stress of meeting Mariah and the baby, had worn him down.

After downing several sips of the coffee, he asked, “Do you have any other relatives living close by?”

“No. Our parents divorced when Aimee and I were small, and ever since, our mother has lived in Florida near her parents.”

“Do any of them ever come to visit?”

A bitterness twisted her features. “Not hardly. Aimee and I were lucky to get a birthday or Christmas card from any of them. Now that I’m the only one left, it’ll be easy for them to forget they have family back here on a dusty ranch.”

So Mariah clearly wouldn’t be getting any emotional support from that branch of the family. The idea bothered him greatly. Mariah was so young. She needed someone to embrace and encourage her through the loss of her sister and the transition it was making on her life. She needed a loving family surrounding her. But she had none.

He said, “I guess you can tell that Aimee didn’t share much about her family life with me. But to be fair I didn’t ask her a lot of personal questions. We mostly talked about horses and the things we had in common. I thought we’d have plenty of time for family talk later. I never believed...well, that things would end up like this.”

Over the rim of her mug, she regarded him solemnly. “After you left Reno did you ever try to contact her?”

“Sure. I called several times. But the phone signal would break or she’d never answer. I even left messages on her voice mail, but she never returned them. I finally decided she wanted to put our weekend behind her. So I did the same.”

She turned her head away and Finn could hear a heavy sigh swoosh out of her.

“I should apologize to you, too, Finn. You were right. I wanted to think of you as a cad. I’d made up my mind even before you arrived that you were the one who’d left Aimee in the lurch. That was easier than thinking my sister was...callous or indifferent or—” Her head swung back and forth. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

Aimee’s true intentions toward Finn or her baby had died with her. And none of it could change the future now, Finn thought—unless the DNA test proved some other man had fathered Harry. But already his mind was balking at that idea. Something deep within him recognized that Harry was his child.

He glanced down to see that the baby was sound asleep, his lips slack around the nipple. Carefully, he eased the bottle from the boy’s mouth and placed it on the bar.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he told Mariah. “We’re both in the dark about each other and Aimee and how Harry came to be.

“So you don’t have any other relatives around who could help you with the ranch? What about your dad’s parents?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They died a few years ago within a few months of each other. Both had struggled with serious health problems.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said gently.

Her sigh was wistful. “Aimee and I adored them both. After our parents divorced we lived with them for a while, then Dad purchased this ranch and the three of us moved up here. Having Stallion Canyon was his dream come true.”

Finn glanced thoughtfully around the warm kitchen and tried to imagine what it had been like when her father and sister had been living. Had the three of them gathered at the dinner table and talked about their dreams and plans? Had there been jokes and laughter or arguments and worries?

“So this house—this ranch has been your home for many years,” he stated the obvious.

Rising from the bar stool, she walked over to the cabinet and poured more coffee into her mug. “Since I was eight. And I’m twenty-eight now. So yes, this has been home for all my adult life. But not much longer,” she added dully.

“So you’re planning on moving?” he asked.

She said, “As soon as the real estate agent can sell the ranch.”

There was a hollow sound to her voice, as though moving from this home had no effect on her. Finn didn’t understand why the notion should bother him, but it did. A family ranch with a long history represented pride and hard work. It meant passing a home and legacy from one generation to the next. Had Mariah stopped to think of that, or was getting away from here more important? After twenty years she was bound to have deep roots and sentimental ties to the place. Could she be putting up a front? Pretending to him and even herself that it didn’t matter where she lived?

“You’re going to sell it? Damn, that’s pretty final, isn’t it?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at him. “I’m a teacher. Dad and Aimee are gone and I have no use for the land, the barns or the equipment. I’ve already gotten rid of all but ten of the horses. And I only have those because I can’t find buyers. One of them is a prize stallion and I was holding out for a better price, but I’m almost to the point of giving him and the rest away. Cutting out the feed bill would help stop the ranch from sinking into deeper debt.”

One thing he’d learned about Aimee during their brief time together was that Stallion Canyon and its horses had meant everything to her. But apparently Mariah didn’t feel any such pull. Had it always been that way? he wondered. Or had hard times embittered her?

“My mistake,” he said. “When I drove up earlier, I thought I saw a man at one of the barns. I assumed the ranch was doing business.”

“That was Ringo,” she explained. “He comes by twice a week to haul in feed and generally check on things. To save money I take care of the daily feeding.”

Harry was the only reason Finn had traveled up here to Stallion Canyon. The ranch’s financial condition, or its lone proprietor, was none of his business. But little by little Mariah was somehow drawing him into this place and her plight.

“Am I understanding you right, Mariah? You’re selling the ranch because it’s going under?”

She returned to her seat at the bar. “You’re asking some very personal questions,” she said.

Their gazes connected, and as he studied her gray eyes, he felt something stir in him. The sensation had nothing to do with the baby in his arms and everything to do with the moist gleam on her dusky lips and the subtle scent of flowers drifting to his nostrils.

Hellfire, what’s wrong with you, Finn? One Montgomery sister has already had your baby. Now you’re looking at this one as though you’d like to try for a second!

Trying to shake away the accusing voice in his head, he countered, “You’ve been telling me some very personal things.”

She drew in a deep breath and his gaze instinctively fell to the rise and fall of her breasts. The gentle curves beneath the red checked blouse were just enough to fill a man’s hands, he mentally gauged, or comfort a crying baby.

She said, “Normally I keep such things to myself. But if you are really Harry’s father, then you need to hear about his mother’s side of the family. As for me selling the ranch, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

Finn’s gaze roamed over her delicate features and crow-black hair. She was hardly the glamorous sort, but there was a sweet sort of sexiness about her that he found very hard to resist.

“Aimee told me your father died suddenly of a heart attack. There are five of us Calhoun brothers and we lost our mother about nine years ago to an accident. It’s hell to lose someone you love.”

She stared at the liquid inside her cup, and Finn got the impression she was purposely trying to keep from connecting with him in a personal way. Maybe the sight of him reminded her of Aimee. Or maybe she saw him as the villain, here to take Harry away from her. The idea made him feel like a jerk.

“At least you had a big family to support you. But I’m surviving. And I’m determined to move on with my life.”

Over the years Finn and his family had dealt with troubles and sorrows, but they’d always had one another to lean on. Mariah had been facing everything on her own. He couldn’t imagine how that felt, or what it would do to his spirit.

“I guess losing your father threw the ranch into upheaval,” he spoke his thoughts out loud.

Her expression rueful, she said, “That was the beginning of the downfall. After we buried Dad, Aimee promised she could keep Stallion Canyon profitable. And in the beginning I trusted her. She was a very good trainer. As good as Dad.”

“At Reno I could see how competent Aimee was with her mustang. Your horses should’ve been bringing in top dollars. What happened?”

Mariah released a heavy sigh. “At first she worked very hard. And back then she had capable assistants to help her. But something caused her to change. She started spending money on frivolous things and ignoring her work. I tried to be patient, because I knew how much she was hurting over Dad’s death. Each morning she walked out to the barns, she had to deal with working without him. On top of that, her relationship with Bryce was going nowhere. Then she got pregnant. After that the ranch quickly went downhill.”

Listening to Mariah now, it sounded as though Aimee had been a troubled soul long before he’d met her. Yet he hadn’t glimpsed that side of her. All he’d seen was her laughter and smiles. The realization proved that he’d misjudged her badly. Did that mean any woman could fool him? Even this one?

“I suppose you’re thinking I’m partly to blame for your problems,” he said ruefully.

“I can’t blame you for the choices Aimee made. And anyway, you might not be the man who got Aimee pregnant.”

So she was going to hold on to that notion, he thought grimly. Well, he supposed she had that right. Just as much as he had the right to believe Harry was his son.

The thought had him looking down at the boy in his arms. The child was so tiny and vulnerable, so precious. He wanted to hold the sleeping baby’s face next to his own, to breathe in his sweet scent and let the wonder of being a father settle deep inside him. He might have been gullible with Aimee, but he wasn’t about to let Mariah dupe him. Especially when it came to Harry’s parentage.

But what if Harry’s DNA doesn’t match yours, Finn? You’ll have no argument to keep the boy. Maybe you ought to ask yourself if you’re playing a fool’s game.

Silently cursing the voice of warning in his head, he looked up to see Mariah’s attention fixed on a nearby window. As he studied her pensive profile, he wondered if there was a special man in her life. Even though she wasn’t married, there was still the possibility she had a boyfriend or fiancé. For all he knew, she might even have ideas of marrying and keeping Harry as her child.

Crazy or not, the mere idea of losing the baby in his arms left him cold inside. It changed the whole landscape of the future he’d been mentally painting for himself and his son. Harry gave him a purpose that he’d never had before, and he liked it.

“I believe I am that man,” Finn said. “Aimee put my name on Harry’s birth certificate. She did that for some reason. I only wish she’d contacted me. I could’ve helped—before things here on the ranch started falling apart.”

She glanced at him, her expression wry. “We needed help all right. About a month before her accident, we were forced to sell off part of the horses just to keep the bills paid. Seeing them go opened Aimee’s eyes somewhat. But it was already too late.”

Finn frowned with confusion. “If money was that tight, how did she get the money to go on a skiing holiday?”

“Two of Aimee’s girlfriends paid for the trip. They were hoping a break from the baby and the ranch would help her get her head on straight. Now they blame themselves for her death.”

“Do you blame them?”

Frowning, she looked at him. “No. Accidents can happen anywhere.”

“You’ve never told me exactly how Aimee died. Do you believe it truly was an accident?”

The widening of her eyes told Finn his question had surprised her.

“Why, yes, I do. Her friends said that one minute they were all headed down the slope together and everything was fine. Then a steep embankment appeared several yards on down the path. One of the friends managed to swerve around it, but Aimee and the other girl chose to ski over it. Both of them ramped the ledge and fell on the other side. There was soft powder on the ground that day, but something about the twisted way she landed severed Aimee’s spinal cord.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But after all you’ve said about Aimee it got me to wondering if maybe she was depressed or wasn’t herself and—well, that she was deliberately being reckless.”

Her brows pulled together in a scowl. “I’d be the first to admit that Aimee liked to live on the edge. Most normal folks would be terrified to climb on a horse that had bucking on its mind. But my sister relished the challenge and excitement. Still, as for that day on the ski slope, no, I believe it was an accident. Nothing more.”

Finn was thankful for that much, at least. He hated thinking the responsibility of mothering Harry and the weight of the floundering ranch had pushed Aimee to the point where she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died.

Still, the facts of Aimee’s accident didn’t change what was happening to Mariah now. She was on the verge of losing everything, he thought bleakly. How was she going to pick herself up and start a new life without her home? Without Harry?

Shoving the troubling questions aside, he said, “Aimee’s death. Harry being born. There’s some reason it all happened. And no matter the circumstances of how he was brought into the world, just holding this little guy in my arms makes me feel like a blessed man.”

She said nothing to that. Instead, she stared at him, her gaze frozen on his face. While Finn waited for her to say anything, silence stretched between them like a taut highline.

After several more moments passed without a response, he finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

She jumped to her feet and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice choked. “Please excuse me.”

Before Finn could react, she was rushing toward the arched doorway and as he watched her retreating back, he knew there were already tears on her face.

Damn it! Now what?

With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet and carried the sleeping baby out of the kitchen and back to the nursery.

As soon as he walked into the room, he spotted Mariah standing by a window near the crib, gazing out at the rugged landscape in the distance. Was she thinking about leaving this ranch? No doubt everything about the place reminded her of her father and sister. Or was it the fear of losing Harry that had caused her to break down in tears?

Finn placed the baby in the crib and covered him with a light blanket. It wasn’t until he straightened from the task that he noticed Mariah was looking over her shoulder at him. Thankfully, there were no tears on her face, but Finn didn’t miss the redness of her eyes. The sight hit him far harder than it should have.

“I’m sorry for rushing away like that, Finn,” she said huskily. “Everything suddenly piled up on me.”

He moved from the side of the crib and went to stand next to her. “I hardly need an apology,” he told her. “But it would be nice to see a smile on your face.”

Turning slightly, she cast him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in a smiling mood,” she admitted. “Harry is on my mind. I’m thinking this ranch should eventually be handed down to him. It should remain his home. But sooner rather than later it’s going to belong to someone else. And if it turns out you’re his father, then none of that will matter anyway. You’ll be wanting him to live with you.”

“That’s my plan. If Harry is my son, then he’s going home with me. The child belongs with his father.”

Her mouth fell open, snapped shut, and opened again. “I can’t let that happen, Finn.”

A cool chill rushed through him. “Excuse me, but if DNA proves Harry is mine, then I have every right to take him.”

Her expression bleak, she turned her back to him. “Okay, I’ll admit that as his father you’d have the right. But that’s not all there is to it,” she said in a low tone. “I mean, Harry is used to me. I’ve been his mother since...well, practically since he was born. To pull him away from me would be traumatic for both of us. Besides, I don’t know anything about you. I wouldn’t be much of an aunt if I simply turned him over to you without learning who you are.”

Finn’s first instinct was to remind Mariah that he’d already been robbed of the first few months of his son’s life because her sister had deliberately left him in the dark. But now was not the time to get into a bitter battle with her, he decided. It wouldn’t help his cause to have her thinking he was a hothead who had no business dealing with a baby. She’d learn soon enough that he was Harry’s father and that he wasn’t about to allow her, or anyone, to come between him and his son.

Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to remain cool and collected. “I have all kinds of identification with me. And if you’d like to call and speak with someone about me or my family, I can give you plenty of character references.”

* * *

Biting down on her lip, Mariah closed her eyes and tried to calm the churning fear inside her. What could she say? How could she make this man understand that Harry was all she had left in the world? He was her little boy. If Finn Calhoun took him away from her, she didn’t think she could bear the pain.

If the test revealed he was Harry’s daddy, there’d be no way she could prevent him from taking custody of her baby—unless he was unfit to be a parent, and he hardly looked that. This hunky cowboy looked like a man who was in complete control of himself and everything around him.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, she turned back to him and was immediately struck again by his huge presence. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Finn that set him apart from the other cowboys who’d worked on Stallion Canyon. He had enough confidence for two men and the looks to go with it. But that wasn’t exactly the reason her gaze kept returning to him. There was something about his blue eyes and the hard curve of his lips that invited her to draw near him. And that could prove to be dangerous.

With her mouth feeling as though she’d eaten a bowl of desert sand, she said, “I don’t need a bunch of your friends mouthing your superlative qualities to me. I need to see for myself what sort of man you are.”

His rusty brown brows pulled together in a frown while his keen gaze rambled lazily over her face, and Mariah suddenly wished she’d dressed that morning in a shirt that buttoned tightly at her throat and wrists. At least then she might not be feeling so downright naked.

After a long, pregnant pause, he said, “Most folks consider me a respectable, hardworking man. How do folks around here feel about you?”

For a moment she was taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting him to turn the tables on her. “I have a few friends,” she said. “And the school where I teach wants me back next year. Does that tell you anything about my reputation?”

A corner of his lips curved slightly upward and Mariah found she couldn’t tear her eyes from the provocative image. How many women, besides Aimee, had felt the pleasure of those hard lips on hers? she wondered. Was he the kind of man that frequently pursued women in general, or did one in particular have to catch his attention before he went after her?

His low chuckle caressed her senses, and longing suddenly pierced the empty spots inside her. How nice it would be to hear his laugh each and every day, to be able to laugh with him. To feel his hands touching her, protecting her, loving her.

“You said you wanted to get to know me. Could be that I’d like to know more about you, too. Do you have a boyfriend? Or fiancé?”

Rattled even more by his questions, she moved around him and returned to the side of Harry’s crib. He’d laid the baby on his back and tucked a lightweight blue blanket around him. The idea of the tall, tough cowboy caring so gently for the baby caused her eyes to mist over once again.

“No boyfriend. And definitely not a fiancé.”

“And why is that? You don’t want to be married?”

She made an indifferent shrug, even though a tangle of emotions was suddenly choking her. “I’m waiting for the right man to come along,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t about to add any more to her explanation. She hardly wanted him, or anyone else for that matter, to know that she’d never gotten over losing the only man she’d ever cared about to another woman. And considering the woman had been her sister, Mariah wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the betrayal.

Slowly, she sensed his presence moving alongside her, and then the faint scent of him drifted to her nostrils. He smelled like a man who’d been bathed in desert wind and kissed by hot sunshine, and for one brief moment she wondered what it would be like to press her nose against his throat, to breathe in that evocative scent. To let herself forget that he’d once been Aimee’s lover.

He said, “You must be waiting for Mr. Perfect.”

The huskiness of his voice was such a sensual sound it caused goose bumps to form on the backs of her arms.

“That’s none of your business,” she said.

“Probably not. But I’m a curious kind of guy. I’ve been trying to figure out how a woman who looks like you is living out here alone—without a man to care for her. Protect her.”

And make love to her. Mariah could hear the unspoken words in his voice as clearly as she could hear Harry’s soft breathing behind them.

The fragile grip she had on her senses was coming close to snapping. “Aimee was always the one who wanted a man in her life. Not me.”

“That could change—if you met a man you couldn’t live without.”

Everything inside Mariah had quickly gone hot and shaky. And she wondered wildly how he would react if she suddenly turned and placed her palms against his chest. If she were to tilt her face up to his, would he want to kiss her? Oh my. Oh my. Why were these crazy, wicked thoughts going through her head? Why was he making her forget that she was a practical woman?

“I’m just trying to survive, Finn. I’m not foolish enough to believe a knight will come riding through here on a big white horse and make all my troubles go away.”

A wry grin tugged at his lips. “He might come riding through here on a big brown mustang. Ever think that might happen?”

Her laugh was short and caustic. “If that ever happened I’d run him off with a loaded shotgun. Once these last ten are gone, I never want to see another mustang. If it hadn’t been for the wild horses I might have persuaded Aimee to get out of the business before we went broke. But she was obsessed with the damned things. And now—”

As her words trailed away, his hand wrapped gently around her upper arm, and the touch splintered her resolve to remain indifferent to him. Heat from his fingers was rushing to her cheeks, then plunging downward, showering her whole body with sparks.

“You’re blaming the wrong thing for your troubles, Mariah. At one point, those horses were running free, caring for themselves. They didn’t ask to be captured and confined.”

Mariah’s chin dropped against her chest. She sounded like a pouting child, blaming her problems on everything and everyone but herself. But grief, worry, anger and resentment had been playing with her emotions for so long now. And for just as long, she’d been trying to hide her emotions, to pretend that she was strong and unaffected. And now something about Finn was pulling her feelings right out in the open.

“Sorry. I’ll admit my thinking is twisted. But Aimee refused to consider any other job. With her it was the horses or nothing. And that’s where the ranch was headed—with nothing.”

The subtle tightening of his fingers on her arm had her lifting her face up to his, and as her gaze probed the depths of his blue eyes, her heart thumped so hard she could feel it banging against her ribs.

“Look, Mariah, horses can get into a person’s blood. Caring for them, working with them, loving them. It becomes sort of an addiction. One that’s impossible to shake. Even when you know they’re costing too much money or taking you down a wrong path.”

“So you’re saying your job has to involve horses or you wouldn’t be happy?”

“I’d be miserable without horses around me.”

Disappointment washed through her. Which was ridiculous. Finn’s dreams and desires had nothing to do with her. Except where Harry was concerned. She didn’t want the child to have a father like hers, who’d spent every weekend at horse shows and every waking minute of the day at the training barn.

“You and Aimee would have made a perfect pair,” she said stiffly.

His gaze rambled over her face. “It takes more than a shared love of something to make a perfect partnership. The fact that Aimee wasn’t interested in building a relationship with me proves that much.”

She grimaced. “As far as men go, Aimee didn’t know what she wanted.”

“Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.

Her gaze connected with his and Mariah’s heart gave a hard thump. “Tell me, Finn, if you’d known about Aimee’s pregnancy would you have married her?”

His expression didn’t flinch, or his gaze break away from hers. “That’s hard to say. Aimee might not have wanted marriage. And as it is, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted it, either. When I do marry I want it to be for love, not out of obligation.”

“So you weren’t in love with my sister?”

“There wasn’t enough time for that. But who knows, if Aimee had given us a chance, we might’ve fallen in love and gotten married.”

Hearing this sexy cowboy talk about loving and marrying Aimee bothered her in more ways than she cared to admit. Maybe because she’d never had a rugged man like him give her a second glance. Not as long as Aimee had been around to monopolize all the male attention.

“Then you’d be my brother-in-law right now. And a widower.”

“Yeah.”

Mariah was so busy trying to read the emotions in his eyes that long moments passed before she realized the room had gone quiet and Finn’s hand was still wrapped around her arm.

Move, Mariah. Step away from him before his touch begins to feel too good to resist. Before your dreams start down a very foolish path.

“I—please—excuse me, Finn. I have to go.”

Before she could let herself weaken, before he could guess the longing on her face, Mariah pulled away from him and raced out of the nursery. She didn’t stop until she was inside her bedroom with the door shut firmly behind her. And by then she was trembling from head to toe.

With her shoulders slumped against the door, she covered her hot face with both hands and sucked in several deep breaths. She’d been through too much to let herself break down now. She needed to show Finn that she was a strong, capable woman. More than that, she needed to convince herself that he was a man she couldn’t fall in love with.

Chapter Three

Finn sat at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a mug of half-burned coffee, as he tried to decide what to do next. He’d been sitting there for more than half an hour, waiting for Mariah to show her face again. Since she’d run from the nursery, he hadn’t heard her stirring, and he was starting to wonder whether he should search her out and apologize, or tell her he was leaving for town.

Neither option appealed to him. He wasn’t ready to leave the ranch just yet. Not until the two of them had made definite plans concerning Harry. And he hadn’t done anything he needed to apologize for—except maybe make her face the reality of Harry’s being a Calhoun.

Rising from the table, he walked over to a set of double windows and studied the view behind the house. From this spot, he could just make out a corner of one large barn, a smaller shed and a maze of connecting corrals. Except for a few birds and the wind twisting the leaves, nothing was moving. It was a sad and lonely sight, he thought grimly.

“I see you’ve helped yourself to the coffee. I’m glad. I haven’t been a very good hostess.”

He hadn’t heard her enter the room, and the sound of her voice had him quickly turning to see her walking toward him. While she’d been in her room, she’d put on a pair of faded red cowboy boots and released her hair from its ponytail. Now the long black waves framed her face and rested on her shoulders. Her nose looked as though she’d patted it with a powder puff, while a sheen of pink glossed her lips. She looked sweet and sexy and totally unassuming. And as Finn stared at her, he felt a strange sensation slowing coursing through him. Was this how it felt to be mesmerized by a woman?

“I dug into your brownies, too,” he told her. “They’re good. Did you make them?”

A faint smile touched her lips. It was the first one that Finn had seen on her face and the sight encouraged him. Maybe the short break from him and the baby had put her in a better mood.

“Thanks. I like to bake and cook. Now that Cora is gone I get to do plenty of it.”

“I’ve been listening for Harry. Does he usually cry when he wakes up?”

“Depends if he’s wet or hungry. Most of the time he’s a happy baby. I’ll find him wide-awake just cooing and looking around.” She walked over to the cabinet and dumped the last of the syrupy black coffee into the sink. “We had an intercom system put in after Harry was born. It was rather expensive. But I can go anywhere in the house or out on the porches and still be able to hear every little sound he makes.”

“Dad had one installed in the ranch house years ago. It was rarely used until Rafe and Lilly had their babies. That’s my brother and sister-in-law. They have two kids. A girl, Colleen. And a boy, Austin. He’s just a few months older than Harry.”

She looked at him with interest. “So Harry would have cousins to play with. That is, if he truly is a Calhoun.”

Obviously she was going to point out the question of Harry’s parentage at every turn of their conversation, he thought drearily. Well, if it made her feel better, then so be it. She’d have her bubble busted soon enough.

“Six little cousins. The Calhoun family is big. And I don’t figure it’s quit growing yet.”

“Hmm. Must be nice. To be in a big family. I wouldn’t know.” She rinsed out the coffee carafe, then placed it back on the warmer. “So tell me about yourself and your family. What do you do back in Nevada?”

Rising to his feet, he carried his cup over to where she stood, then rested his hip against the cabinet counter. “I manage the horse division of the Silver Horn Ranch. Along with the cattle, we raise quarter horses for show, cutting and ranch use.”

* * *

Mariah stared at him while trying not to appear shocked. Aimee had simply told her that Finn was a horseman and Mariah had presumed he’d worked as a wrangler for some ranch, or was simply a guy who liked horses. Aimee had never mentioned anything as impressive as the manager of a horse division.

Her head swung back and forth. “We? Uh—you have other men helping you?”

“Why, yes. I thought—” Tilting his head to one side, he studied her. “Apparently Aimee didn’t tell you that my home is the Silver Horn.”

Confused now, she said, “No. She didn’t. And I’m not familiar with that name. Should I be?”

Her question put a look of amused disbelief on his face.

“Most folks on both sides of the state line have heard of the Silver Horn. But with Aimee gone and Stallion Canyon up for sale I guess you don’t keep up with ranching news.”

As long as her father had been alive, Mariah had been proud of Stallion Canyon. Ray Montgomery had poured his heart and soul into the land and the horses, and along the way had provided his daughters with a good home and security. But once he’d died, everything had taken a downhill slide. As the burden of debt had grown heavier on Mariah’s shoulders, she’d started to resent the place that had been her home for twenty years. Yet now, hearing Finn speak as though the ranch was done and finished left a hollowness inside her.

Resting her hand on the cabinet counter, she turned so that she was facing him. “So this Silver Horn where you work—it’s a big outfit?”

He nodded. “I don’t just work there. I live there, too. It belongs to the Calhoun family. My great-grandfather started it many years ago. These days my grandfather Bart—I call him Gramps—is the director of the whole shebang. We run a few thousand head of cattle and usually have two to three hundred horses on hand.”

Mariah was stunned. Why had Aimee kept something like that from her? Had her sister gone after Finn because she’d known he was wealthy, then later changed her mind about pursuing a relationship with him? Dear Lord, it was all so strange, so mind-boggling.

She tried not to sound as dazed as she felt. “Your ranch must cover a lot of acreage.”

“We own several thousand acres and lease that much more from the BLM—the Bureau of Land Management,” he told her.

Mariah felt like a fool. Not only because Aimee had kept her in the dark, but because she hadn’t looked into Finn’s background before she’d called to tell him about Harry. At least she would’ve known what sort of man she’d be facing. But then, a man’s material worth didn’t necessarily speak for his character, she reasoned. And she was quickly learning that Finn wasn’t a man who could be summed up in one short visit.

“I apologize if my questions sound stupid. But Aimee didn’t tell me anything about you. Except that you lived in Nevada and liked horses.”

He shrugged. “Guess that was all that mattered to her. When I told her I lived on the Silver Horn, she seemed to be familiar with the ranch. But we didn’t talk about it that much. She asked about our remuda and the broodmares and a little about the ranch house. It didn’t seem important to her.”

Her thoughts whirled as she gathered the few dirty dishes scattered over the countertop and piled them into the sink. “So Aimee understood you were wealthy?”

“I figure she made that assumption. But I never told her any such thing. Only a braggart starts spouting off information like that to a woman he’s just met,” he said. “I don’t expect you share the balance of your bank account with the men you meet.”

Pulling back her shoulders, she said, “I don’t meet that many men. But if I did, they wouldn’t hear about my finances. I just wondered...”

“If Aimee pursued me because of my wealth?” he asked wryly. “I think the fact that she didn’t attempt to continue our relationship tells you how much she appreciated my money.”

Mariah thoughtfully swiped a soapy sponge slowly over a saucer. “I don’t mean to pry, Finn. I’m just trying to understand why my sister put off contacting you about Harry. Could be she was worried about you getting custody—since you could provide more financial security for him. Far more than she ever could. But that doesn’t make much sense, either. Because she wasn’t afraid to put your name on the birth certificate.”

He moved a step closer and Mariah’s nerves twisted even tighter.

“I don’t think you ought to be worrying over Aimee’s motives anymore,” he said. “Harry’s future is the main issue now. And that brings us to the DNA test. Do you think we can get that taken care of tomorrow?”

Her throat went tight as she glanced over at him. “You’re not wanting to waste any time, are you?”

“Dallying around won’t tell us anything. And my job on the Horn is—well, pretty demanding. I need to get back there as soon as possible.”

“I suppose I can call the school and let them know I need to take a couple hours off in the morning. Long enough for us to go to the health department and get the samples taken,” she said guardedly. “That way you can go on back to Nevada. And receive the results in the mail.”

“That isn’t going to happen.”

His instant retort had her dropping the sponge and squaring around to face him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not about to leave here without Harry.”

The determination in his voice sent a chill slithering down her spine. “And what if you’re not his father? All that waiting will be wasted.”

His clear blue gaze traveled over her face in a way that made Mariah forget about breathing.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said quietly.

Shoving a hand in her hair, she pushed it off her forehead, while silently yelling at her heart to slow down. Otherwise, she was going to faint right at his feet.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she said, “You must be feeling confident that Harry is your child.”

“I am. And deep down you believe I’m his father, too. Don’t you?”

Clamping her jaw tight, she was determined not to let him see her cry, to let him know that the thought of losing Harry was shattering her whole being.

Turning back to the sink full of dishes, she picked up the sponge and twisted it until soapy foam covered both hands. “I’ll believe what the DNA test says,” she said hoarsely. “Nothing less.”

She was fighting back tears when she felt him move behind her and place his hand on her shoulder. Mariah squeezed her eyes shut as heat raced up the side of her neck and down her arm.

“Mariah,” he said gently, “I’m not an ogre. I can see how much you love Harry. But a man who could leave his son—well, he wouldn’t be much of a man. Would he?”

Swallowing hard, she turned to face him, but the moment her gaze met his, her self-control crumbled and she began pounding her fist against his chest. “No, damn you! I wished I’d never called you! I’d have my baby and you’d never know the difference!”

By the time he grabbed her flying fists and anchored them tightly against his chest, she was sobbing, her cheeks drenched with tears. But what this man thought about her no longer mattered. All she cared about was Harry.

“Hush, Mariah. Please, don’t cry.”

He gently drew her forward, until her wet cheek was pressed against the middle of his chest and his hand was stroking the back of her head.

Even if Mariah had wanted to resist, the solid comfort of his arms, the tender touch of his fingers upon her hair, was a balm to her raw nerves. A man hadn’t touched her this way in ages. She hadn’t wanted one to touch her. Until now.

Eventually, the warmth of his arms eased the chill inside her and dried the tears in her eyes. By then, his masculine scent and the hard muscle beneath her cheek were turning her thoughts in a totally different direction.

He murmured against the top of her head. “Better now?”

The husky note in his voice shivered through her like a cold drink on a hot day. So good. So perfect. But she couldn’t keep standing here in his arms, letting her erotic thoughts get out of control.

Quickly, she stepped back from his tempting body and wiped fingers against the traces of tears on her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I’m behaving like a shrew. But I—” Her gaze met his and her heart very nearly stopped as she spotted a sensual gleam in his blue eyes. Had the embrace they’d just shared affected him, too? Or were her scattered senses making her see things that weren’t really there?

His lips took on a wry slant. “Forget it, Mariah. I can take a few punches. Besides, you made your point. You chose to call me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known anything about Harry. Unless by some chance I ran across some of her old friends at a horse show, and even then, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection of me being her child’s father.”

His expression softened. “I’m grateful that you made that call, Mariah. Even though I understand how much it’s breaking your heart.”

Blinking at a fresh wave of tears, she turned back to the sink and thrust her hands into the water. Better there than pounding them against Finn’s chest and making a complete neurotic fool of herself, she thought dismally.

A shaky breath shuddered past her lips. “Harry deserves a father,” she said bluntly.

He moved a few steps away and Mariah went limp with relief. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t trust herself near a man.

“The afternoon is getting late,” he said, “and I haven’t gotten a room in town yet. Can you recommend a good place to stay?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and suddenly without warning, she heard herself saying, “You don’t need to drive back to town. You’re welcome to stay here. There are plenty of empty bedrooms and you’d be close to Harry.”

And to me.

The voice in her head came out of the blue. Just as her unplanned invitation had come from a place inside her she hadn’t known existed. Dear Lord, she must be cracking up. Earlier, she’d wanted rid of this man. Now she wanted to get closer to him. This cowboy was putting some sort of hypnotic spell on her.

“It’s nice of you to offer, Mariah, but I don’t expect you to put me up for the night.”

The arch of his brows said her invitation had surprised him. But it couldn’t have surprised him any more than it had her.

“Dad would’ve already insisted you be our guest,” she reasoned. “I wouldn’t feel right doing any less.”

“But you live here alone.”

She frowned. “What’s that got to do with it?”

“I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I trust you to be a gentleman. And you look like a strong guy—you can help me with the barn chores.”

The broad smile he gave her was like a dazzling ray of sunshine. It warmed Mariah as nothing had in a long time.

“You just got yourself a ranch hand and a houseguest. Thank you, Mariah.”

She inclined her head in agreement. “If you’d like to fetch your things, I’ll show you where to put them.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Once he was gone from the room, Mariah leaned weakly against the cabinet and wondered if she just made the biggest mistake of her life. Opening her home to Finn wasn’t going to make him change his mind about taking Harry.

Oh, come on, Mariah. Inviting him to stay here on the ranch had nothing to do with Harry. You want him around because looking at him is a constant thrill. Hearing his voice shivers over your senses like sweet, slow music. And touching him made your whole body ache for more.

Disgusted with the mocking voice in her head, Mariah left the kitchen and hurried toward the block of bedrooms located at the back of the house. As she collected clean linen for Finn’s bed, she assured herself that she wasn’t about to be charmed by the Nevada horseman. She had more important and pressing issues in her life to deal with. Like finding out whether Finn actually was Harry’s father.

* * *

Later that evening, Finn stood in the middle of the ranch yard, surveying the barns and surrounding landscape. From what he could see from his limited view, the ranch was a beautiful property. Run-down in places, but still very usable.

Not far to the east of the barns and corrals, forest-covered mountains formed a towering green wall. To the west, the land swept away to an open valley floor dotted with a mixture of hardwoods and evergreens. Some twenty to thirty miles beyond the valley, tall blue mountains etched a ragged horizon against the sky. Stallion Canyon was a much greener land than that of the Horn, and the beauty of it made Finn long to straddle a horse and explore the foothills and meandering streams.

He wondered if Mariah ever had the urge to ride over the ranch, or had the financial difficulties she’d been under robbed all pleasures she’d taken from the place?

Damn it, he wished he could quit thinking about the woman. Quit wondering why she’d invited him to stay here on Stallion Canyon. Especially when his presence only seemed to upset her.

You didn’t have to accept her invitation, Finn. You could have told her a quick “no thank you.” Instead, you couldn’t accept fast enough. So you could be near Harry, you told yourself. Bull. Admit it, you want to be near Mariah, too.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.