Anne McAllister - One-Night Love-Child

“I didn’t realize you wanted me to stick my head in the bathroom and announce it.” A corner of his mouth quirked, and the way his eyes slid over her made her wish she had a suit of armor on, not a cashmere sweater and velvet pants.

She wrapped her arms across her chest. “Of course not!”

He didn’t reply for a moment, as if considering what to say. Then he shook his head gravely. “I’m sorry you were upset. It never occurred to me to tell you. I thought you’d figure it out.”

“Well, I didn’t. I didn’t know what you’d do. I don’t even know you.”

“You did,” he said quietly, and the serious husky tone of his voice sent those goose bumps skittering down her spine again.

She hugged herself. “No.”

But he nodded. “You did, Sara.” His tone was insistent. “I think you knew me better than anyone else on earth.”

“Then why—” The anguished words burst from her before she could stop them. But fortunately she managed to shut her mouth before she sounded like a pathetic twit. And thankfully, the phone chose that moment to ring.

She spun away from him and grabbed for the phone on the countertop. “Hello?”

“Oh, dear. You already know.” It was Celie, sounding worried and apologetic.

“Know?” Sara echoed. She braced a hand against the counter. Celie wasn’t going to tell her about Flynn, was she? The Elmer grapevine being what it was, that was distinctly possible.

“About Annie.” Annie was Celie’s four-year-old. “I thought you must from the tone of your voice. You sound…weird. Upset. Because I can’t babysit tonight. She’s running a fever. They sent her home from preschool. She’s vomiting now. You don’t want Liam here tonight.”

“No, I—”

“I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Sara said. “I’ll work something out.”

“Maybe Jace could come down when he gets back from Billings, but it won’t be until late and—”

“No, really, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I…have to go. Hope Annie’s better soon.” She hung up and stayed facing the cupboard for a moment, getting her equilibrium back before she turned around. It would be all right, she assured herself. She just wouldn’t go.

“Trouble?” Flynn asked when she finally turned around.

Sara shrugged. “Celie was going to babysit Liam tonight. Now she can’t.”

“Where were you going?” There was something so proprietary in Flynn’s tone that it set her back up.

“On a date.”

His brows drew down. “With who?”

“Obviously, you wouldn’t know him. His name is Adam. He’s the foreman at one of the ranches nearby. And he’s a sculptor, too,” she added. It was true and it was definitely impressive. She’d seen some of Adam’s work.

Flynn’s jaw tightened. “Is it serious?”

“His sculpture?”

His eyes narrowed. “No, damn it. You and him. Adam.” He fairly spat the name.

Sara blinked. “What difference does it make?”

“I want to know how things stand.”

He wasn’t the only one, Sara thought. Only, what she wanted to know about had nothing to do with Adam. “We’re dating,” she said ambiguously. “And it is Valentine’s Day,” she added, because why not let him think it was more serious than it actually was?

Besides, Adam was a chivalrous sort of guy. He probably wouldn’t mind her hiding behind her date with him. All of a sudden going seemed far smarter than staying home.

“Excuse me now,” she said, reaching for her little local phone list. “I need to find a babysitter.” She picked up the phone and began to punch in the number.

Flynn took the phone out of her hand. “I’ll watch him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it? He’s my son.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know you.”

“He wants to. He told me he asked Santa for me.” Flynn grinned.

Sara wanted to spit. “He’s five. And curious.”

“So, fine. Let him get to know me. Let me spend time with him. What better way?”

It sounded like the way to perdition to Sara. She shook her head. “It’s too soon.”

Flynn scowled. “Oh? And when is it not going to be too soon, Sar’? Tomorrow? Next week? Next year?”

“You’ve been here two hours, if that!”

“And I would have been here sooner if I’d known,” he said evenly. “I’ll say it again—as many times as it takes—I didn’t know. And if you’re worried about whether he’ll stay with me, ask him.”

“What?”

“Ask him if he minds. If he doesn’t want me to do it, I won’t.” Flynn raised his brows, met her gaze, threw down the gauntlet again. “Ask him.”

As if on cue, Liam yelled from outside, “Dad! C’mon! What’re you doin’ in there? Aren’tcha comin’?”

Sara winced at the eager tone, winced at the memory of her son striding up to Santa and saying, “I want you to bring my dad home.”

Flynn’s gaze remained fixed on her. His expression said all it needed to. But then he added, “Does Adam make you hot when he kisses you, Sara?”

“Fine,” Sara snapped. “Babysit. I wish you the joy of it!”

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